The Variable
by freedwinner28
Summary: He is one of their strongest contenders in the Maze. But he isn't responding as they have anticipated. And so the question remains. "What makes Minho tick?" This is the story of how far WICKED is willing to go to get the blueprints they all coveted. Even the Keeper of the Runners won't be able to escape from them.
1. The Variable

**_Disclaimer:_ **I do not own the Maze Runner series, the Glade, the Grievers, or Minho. These things and person are all owned by the awesome shank who goes by the name of "James Dashner". So thank him.

**variable**

_noun: _an element, figure, or factor that is liable to vary or change

"Is this really necessary?" He raised his head from where it rested on his folded arms and looked at his partner with weary eyes.

"Everthing we do here has a purpose. Whatever purpose it is, its main goal will always be to get the necesary blueprints that we need." The older man's voice sounded clipped and cold. It was devoid of any emotions, as if they dealt with lab rats instead of humans. He continued, "These past few months, Subject A7 has been giving us a bit of a hard time. He is not responding to the Variables like most of the Subjects. Hence, we're not getting the blueprints we need from him. Don't get me wrong. That doesn't mean he is different from the rest. He simply needs to be introduced to the right variable. Something..."

"Something that makes him tick."

"Exactly, Thomas. And I know just what it is." At that moment, Janson smiled at him. It was genuine but it gave the younger boy neither comfort nor peace of mind.

Thomas focused on the monitor in front of him. It showed a 16-year old Asian boy with olive skin and jet black hair. He was talking with another boy, laughing at something he just said.

Subject A7. Minho.

The kid had no idea what's coming for him.


	2. The Box

_**Disclaimer:** _I still don't own the Maze Runner series. Ha! Would you believe that...

She woke up drenched in sweat, one side of her face covered with what had been her lunch, though she couldn't remember what it was. A chill ran down her spine. She couldn't remember anything. She screamed in panic as the metal box continued its dizzying ascent. So many questions ran in her head and there was no way to answer any of them. _What is this place?_

The metal box came to an abrupt halt, toppling her off balance and making her land on her butt. It's top grinds open, letting in bright white sunlight. She shielded her eyes for a few seconds, momentarily blinded. Once they adjusted, she could make out the silhouettes of at least a dozen heads looking down on her from above.

One person jumped in, landing on her left. It was a lean boy, taller than her by many inches with short blonde hair. When he spoke, his words sounded thick with a British accent. "Nice to meet you, greenie. The name's Newt. Welcome to the Glade."

Her mouth hung open. She didn't know what to say. The way she saw it, she was the only one who seems to be panicking.

"Well come on now. We haven't got all day."

A dark-skinned boy offered a hand. She took it, letting him hoist her out of the box and onto moist soil.

"Name's Alby. You are one skinny shank. You are."

Whispers and murmurs ran throughout the crowd surrounding them.

"Looks a bit too pretty for a boy, don't you think?"

"That hair is ugly though."

"Boy must've crossed a barber before he got his scrawny butt in here." A few boys snickered.

_'Boy?!'_ she thought incredulously. "Hey! I can hear you perfectly from here." Green eyes glared at them. The snickers went down, turning into hushed whispers.

"What's wrong with you, why d'you-" _keep calling me boy._ The question died in her throat. She looked down on her chest. As she breathed in, she felt something wrapped tightly around it. She reached up to touch her hair. She could tell it was short and severely uneven.

"What is this place?" she murmured. Hundreds of questions ran in her head, one of them was whether or not to let them know that he is actually a she. It was follwed closely by the pessimistic 'Am I dead?'

"Like what my friend Newt said. You're in the Glade. It's where we live, where we sleep, where we eat-"

"Who sent me here?" The panic she felt earlier came bubbling back. "Who are you people, really? And what the hell am I doing here?!" she was almost screaming the last words.

"Slow down with the questions now, will you shank?"

There goes that word again. _Shank._

She looked around her, past the boys, onto an open grassfield, on the cement walls surrounding them like a giant prison. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. The panic gripped her so tightly now she couldn't think straight. What happened before all of this? Who was she? "I can't remember anything."

"We've been there before. All of us. No one knows why," Alby said. She looked up at him, green eyes wild with fear. "You mean you got here the same way as me with...with nothing?"

"Pretty much sums it up," one voice said.

"Smart of him to figure that out so quickly," another said, obviously sarcastic.

The dark-skinned boy glared at the crowd around them. "Don't you slintheads have stuff to do? Get on with it." By the way the others obeyed his command, she could tell he was their leader of sorts. He seemed to look older than all of them too.

"Look. It's a long story. It's all confusing now but slowly you'll learn. We all do. I'm taking you for a tour tomorrow, try to answer you questions. I'm sure you got loads of 'em. Till then, try to stay out of trouble."

She looked down on her tattered shoes, not remembering how she got the ugly things on. "Okay. Thanks."

Alby turned to go but looked back at her before he got too far, "Oh before I forget. there are thirty more Gladers in this place. In time you'll get to know 'em one by one. You got a name greenie?"

_Now or never. Take your pick._ She chickened out. "Name's Alex."


	3. The Maze

It was late afternoon. The Keeper of the Runners smiled as the entrance to the Glade came into view. He exhaled loudly before breaking into a full sprint. A few seconds later, his feet crunched on the moist ground of what had become their home for nearly a year now. He walked in circles for a few minutes to cool his body down before collapsing on the ground, limbs spread apart like a starfish. His chest heaved as his lungs starved for oxygen.

Ben peered down on him. "You're a bit late than the usual. It's too bad you missed all the fun. We got the supplies and a Greenbean in tow." He handed him a canteen of cold water. Minho took it wordlessly, chugging down all of its contents in a few gulps.

"What's the scoop on the Greenie? Any chance I get to recruit him as a Runner someday?"

The blonde-haired Builder snorted at this. "Doubt it. The shuckface is as skinny as a twig. Can't even pass for a Builder if you ask me."

"Oh great. Another Slopper then."

"I dunno. It's too early to tell."

Not long ago, Minho, Ben, and a few other Gladers began taking bets on where their newest Greenies would be designated to. Last month, Ben and two other Builders have won. Minho was itching for payback.

"Is that him?" he nodded at a figure a few yards away. The boy couldn't have been older than fifteen. He stood pigeon-toed as he watched the Track-Hoes doing some finishing touches in the Gardens. True enough, he _was_ small and looked eternally awkward with those disproportionately long arms and legs. Minho thought Frypan's food will do him a lot of good. He himself packed some meat after only a few months of eating them. When the Greenbean turned to look at their direction, the dark-haired Runner did a double take.

"Ugh! And he's ugly too. Looks like a girl."

Ben chuckled. "Maybe we should ask for a girly wig. Put it over that shuck ugly hair of his and give the Glade it's first Muse."

The two boys laughed. They've begun scheming on how to coerce the Greenie to do just that when Minho noticed him walking towards the North Gate.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where the shuck does he think he's going? Didn't Alby give him the tour yet?"

"The tour always happens on the next day, slinthead."

The boy had reached dangerously close to the gate. Minho rolled his eyes, wishing he could pretend he didn't see anything. _Yeah, right._ "Oh shuck it."

* * *

><p>There were four gates in total, one for each wall of what the Gladers called The Maze. Alex stood in front of the North wall, taking in its appearance. Thick, rope-like ivy hung on its extent. On one side of the opening, metal bars as thick as her forearm jutted out. On the other side were holes. Alex figured its where those bars must go into when the wall closes. But she couldn't picture it moving. The gigantic slab of concrete must have weighed a thousand tons.<p>

She was looking up, trying to gauge how high the wall went when a series of metallic clicks and whirs caught her attention. It sounded as if it came from inside the maze, robotic and moving. _Do they know what's in there?_ she wondered. Without much of a second thought she decided to look for its source.

Before she could even take the first step, someone shouted from behind her. "Hey klunkhead!"

She turned around and saw two boys approaching. The one ahead was tall, with dark hair and muscular arms. His almond eyes looked so livid they made Alex take a step back, right into the entrance. Her sudden movement seemed to make him angrier.

"Hey!" he barked again. As soon as Alex was within his reach, Minho shoved her hard on the chest. She yelped, the momentum almost making her topple over, forcing her to take a couple of steps backwards and well away from the entrance. White, hot pain erupted from her chest, knocking the breath out of her. Her face turned purple, both from anger and embarrassment.

_The asshole just touched my boobs!_

"What the hell was that for?!" she growled. She fought the urge to slap him across the face. _How dare he!_

"What the hell was that?" he countered. "Are you trying to get yourself killed on your first day? You know there's a reason why the Maze is off limits."

"I didn't know. And... I thought I heard something moving up ahead."

The look on Minho's face shifted from angry to alarmed. "You sure?"

"Yes. Like a machine or something, clicking and moving."

Ben, having heard the conversation, stepped in beside Minho. "They've never gotten this close before," he murmured.

"Who's they?"

"That's Alby's job to tell you," Minho snapped. "Since you obviously don't know, the Maze is a no-no for shuckfaced Greenies like yourself. Most of 'em figure that out in a few hours. Guess you're slower than most."

Alex's temper, which had been simmering down, flared up in under three seconds. "Are you calling me an idiot? A simple warning would've worked, I'm not dense. No need to get your freak on and shove me. Asshole!" _Get your freak on? Where did that come from?_

Alex was painfully aware of the way his right hand tightened into a fist. Warning bells screamed at her to back down. _If he clips you with that hand, you're finished,_ a voice in her head murmured.

Minho crossed his arms over his chest. "If you wanna go and be a Griever's side dish then that's fine. Really, be my guest. Just don't step in that Maze while I'm around. Don't oblige me to save your skinny butt."

"I have now idea what you're talking-"

Before she could finish her sentence, a loud grating sound filled the air. Alex had to clamp her hands over her ears or risk shattering her eardrums. It was the wall moving. The side with the bars inched slowly towards the side with the holes. She watched in horror as the bars entered their slots. The wall closed shut with one final boom reverberating in the entire Glade, rattling her guts. Claustrophobia crawled up her torso, making it hard to breath. Seeing the walls close reminded her just how hopelessly trapped she was in this strange place. Suddenly it became all too overwhelming. What she just saw, what she didn't know, all those questions she had no means of answering. Will she ever come to the bottom of it all?

"That-that thing it did is normal, right?" When she turned around both boys were gone. She let her knees give way, not caring if they got scraped in her fall. Skinned knees were the least of her problems. For the first time in that long and confusing day, she allowed herself to cry.


	4. Runners

_**Author's Note: ** _A shout-out to **TheAliensDidIt** and **Starcrier** for being my first ever reviewers! Yay! Oh and another thing...this story is slow-paced. As I was writing the first few chapters of The Variable, I was letting "Alex" take control of how fast the story will progress. Many authors, myself included, believe that the best way to let a story progress is to let the characters do their thing and not force them into something THIS BIG early on...unless they want to. The girl sure took her sweet time familiarizing herself in the Glade. Don't expect somebody humping anybody for now. We already have a lot of _those _Minho fics anyways. I don't think I need to put up another one. =) Still, I hope you enjoy this one. The tension between the two is _there. _Squint your eyes and tilt your head to the left, if you can't see it.

_**Disclaimer:** _I have a license to stick needles in people's veins. But I don't have ownership of the Maze Runner series. Sad.

Despite the cool night breeze and the relative comfort of the hammock she laid on, sleep was difficult to come by. Try as she might, Alex couldn't recover the massive holes in her memory. She thought if she could just remember, perhaps she would finally know who put her in this place.

It turned out her case wasn't an unusual one either. Ever Glader who came up from the stinking box had no memories of their lives apart from their first names. So clearly, they were brought here by the same people. But why? What for? What will they get from kidnapping young boys and trapping them inside a gigantic maze? Nothing added up. Sighing, she dug further into what little she remembered. She remembered the general workings of the world outside. She remembered towns, cities, countries, and buildings but have no clear memory of ever visiting one. She knew kids her age went to school but couldn't pull out an instant in her life where she went into one. On top of it all, she couldn't remember her family. Did she have parents? Siblings maybe? Or was she an orphan? Was anyone looking for her at that very moment? Did anyone care that she was gone? Her thoughts got gloomier and gloomier until dawn came and her misery had lulled her to sleep.

She couldn't have slept for more than two hours when a pair of strong arms shook her awake. It was Alby. He placed his finger over his lips, signalling for her to stay quiet. "Follow me," he whispered.

She followed him groggily, careful not to step on the boys who were sleeping on the ground. Once they were relatively far from the snores of the Gladers, Alby spoke up. "You can ask questions later after I've told you everything. That sound okay to you Greenbean?"

"What's with the Greenbean nickname?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?" Alby rolled his eyes, exasperated. Orienting clueless newbies were getting old for him. He had more pressing things to take care of. "It's a nickname for the newest kid in the Glade. Expect it to stick for another month until a new boy comes out of that box," he points to the box in the middle of the open field. "Then he becomes Greenie. Good that?"

Alex shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"Lemme say it again, welcome to the Glade. Up ahead, on your right is the Gardens. They're run by the Track-Hoes. They make sure them veggies get real plump and juicy for cooking. On your left, where we stayed for the night is the Homestead. It's a little small for all of us to fit in..doubt it would hold together too if we had forty shanks stampeding into it at once. Good thing most people sleep outside. The air is cooler and you don't have to worry about a sudden drizzle. Never rains here. If you get sick, the sick room is on the second floor. It's run by Clint, the Med-jack." Alby points a lazy thumb on a small building behind the Homestead. It looked filthy and had tough wooden bars for doors. "The Slammer, where we keep them Gladers who've done wrong. If its a serious offense he did, he gets taken to the Cliff, inside the Maze. I personally push him off of it. Don't say I haven't warned you."

Alex gulped. From the way he said it, she could tell it wasn't a joke. Alby smiled down on her, as though he did not just tell her how death sentences worked in this place. "How you catchin' up so far?"

"Um..Gardens, Homestead, Slammer, behave myself."

"Good that." They turned and faced southwards. Alby pointed to a cluster of creepy-looking trees on the southwest side. "The Deadheads. Where we bury the dead."

Alex looked up in surprise. A chill crept down her spine. "People have actually died in here?"

"When a Glader dies, some Baggers are relieved of their policing duties and collect the body. They take 'im over there and bury 'im inside the woods on the right side. The left side is where we take out our trash." They turned their attention right across the Deadheads where a shack stood. The smell of manure and poultry wafted off of it. "The Bloodhouse, where the livestock are kept. It's run by the Slicers. When Frypan orders for some meat, they're in charge of the slaughtering."

"That's uh...I can stick to gardening, I guess." Somehow she couldn't imagine herself turning an entire pig into edible meat chunks, not when said pig can probably squash her dead without as much as a side way glance. "I mean I gotta work, right?"

Alby chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Don't worry. You'll be working with different groups everyday until you find the one job that suits you. Builders. Bricknicks. Slicers. Track-Hoes. Something will stick, I promise."

Alex nodded, glad that Alby was doing an effort to ease her into things as opposed to letting her fend for herself.

Behind him, a group of boys gathered outside of the Homestead. Each of them had backpacks and expensive-looking running shoes, way different from the usual shorts and sneakers the other Gladers wore. Alex noted that one of them was the Asian kid from yesterday. He stretched up his muscular arms, twisted them this way and that before leading the group into a small shack beside the Slammer. "Who are those guys?" she asked.

Alby turned out to be serious about his listen-now-ask-later rule and went on as though he didn't hear her. "There are three rules every Glader must follow. Number one. Everyone does their part. Number two. Never hurt another Glader. And number three, I heard my friend Minho has already given you a lecture on this one. Never go outside of the Glade. Unless you're one of those guys. They are the Runners."

"Runners." She looked back at the shack. Some of the boys had gone out of its front door carrying various weapons. One had a slingshot while another had two large knives strapped on both of his hips. The third boy that came out held a machete in one hand. _Yikes, _she thought.

"They are the only ones allowed in the Maze." Guessing another question coming, Alby continued. "Their job is to find a way out. They've been trying for almost a year now."

"I'm assuming those weapons aren't used for paving their way in the Maze."

The older boy's expression turned grim. "In the maze are creatures called Grievers. Ever since we got here they've taken eight of our Runners."

_Grievers?_ Minho's angry lecture from the other day came to her mind. "Is that Griever thing the same one I heard yesterday? Inside the Maze? You knew about that, right?"

"You ask way too many questions Greenie. But really now, as long as you stay away from the maze, you don't have to know about these things."

* * *

><p>She spent breakfast on the same makeshift table as Jeff and Anton. Jeff, a lean, dark-skinned boy was the Greenie before her. Anton, a muscular boy with brown curls and a hooked nose, was the Greenie before Jeff. She decided to stick with the two since they were the only ones who were new to the place aside from herself. Alex told them about her tour with Alby, how he said she would get to try on different jobs until she will find one she was good at.<p>

"I heard from Gally you will be working with the Builders today," said Anton. "He's their Keeper. He's an arrogant shuckface but the rest of the bunch is cool. I'm a Bricknick so we'll be working closely with each other."

"How about you Jeff? What do you do?"

"I'm a Bagger. You gonna eat that?" the younger boy eyed Alex's last piece of toast.

She hands it to him. "The one who buries the dead, right?"

"Well, I haven't been around long enough to meet a dead body face to face. But when it comes down to it, yeah." Jeff looked past Alex, noticing that the group called "the Runners" were getting up from their tables. They separated into pairs and walked off towards the different walls surrounding the Glade.

"Hey Minho!" Anton called on his right. "Two sharp knives say Greenie over here will be sorted with the Slicers."

"What, are you crazy?" Jeff piped. "Those goats weigh more than two of him. Look at that skinny butt."

Ignoring Jeff's comments, Alex turned to look at the boy behind her, expecting him to breath fire on her. Instead when she looked up to him, he was grinning down on her, eyes turning to slits as he did. He almost looked adorable. Almost.

_You're in a good mood._

"I'm betting on Slopper," Jeff gave her an apologetic look. "No offense man but it's just the way it is. Someone's gotta do it."

"Sloppers clean right? I can do that."

"A bit low on ambition, aren't you Greenie?" Minho said. Not true. Her ambition in life was to get out of the Glade. It was a big and driving ambition. She knew it wasn't what the boy meant and opted to just stick her tongue out at him instead.

"What about you, shank? Where do you expect to find him in a couple of weeks?"

Minho took his time to answer. "Med-jack. I was going for Slopper too but I hate sharing my profits."

"But there's been no other Med-jack besides Clint since ever," Anton pointed out.

"My point exactly."

A loud rumble filled the air. Alex watched as all four gates slid open. From afar, the sound wasn't nearly as deafening.

"That's my cue to go, slintheads. Be back in a few." And with that, Minho jogged towards the West Gate. She noticed he was the only one without a pair. Every other door had two runners by the entrance. A sinking realization came onto her.

"Do I have to go with the Runners too?"

Jeffrey and Anton guffawed at her. _What?_

"Yeah you wish. Only the best of the best gets to be a Runner. Those guys have to be smart enough to navigate through the Maze and fast enough to make it back here before sundown, when the gates close. They are hand-picked by the trio, Alby, Newt and Minho, their Keeper, so yeah. Basically those shucks are top guns."

"No offense to you man, but it looks like those legs will snap into two before you even reach a mile in there." Jeffrey kept on saying "no offense" when in fact, he had been offending her quite a number of times now.

She didn't think the running will cripple her but both boys were right when they said she wasn't cut out for it. Alex knew she was abbysmally bad at directions. She couldn't remember an exact moment in her life when she got lost but she knew she had been there a couple of times. 'Oh well,' she thought. 'At least that's out of the way. And Minho too.' She could stay as far away as possible from that moody slinthead shank, whatever that meant.


	5. Glader Duties

_**Disclaimer: ** _Gally and the Builders are property of WICKED. WICKED belongs to James Dashner.

* * *

><p>Gally has mutant eyebrows.<p>

It was the first thing that came into her mind the first time she saw him. His blonde hair was cropped short. He had an upturned nose and then he had those eyebrows. They were permanently raised, defying gravity without any effort coming from their owner. As a result, he always looked like he was angry at something or someone. He stood in front of her with his arms crossed over his broad chest. True to his title, he looked every bit as strong as a Builder ought to be. His face was blank but Alex could see in his eyes that he was disappointed with this month's litter.

"Let me break this to you right here, right now. You can't be a Builder. I think it's quite obvious why. I need strong people in my group, someone who weighs more than a dozen bricks if he has to survive hauling wood and sledgehammers everyday."

She looked up at the other Builders perched on the roof of the new wooden building they were working on. A few of them were pointing at her, snickering. _Boys are jerks._

Gally continued talking. Either he didn't hear the boys or he was ignoring them. "But I'm going to be fair with you, Greenie. You still need to learn. Think you can handle a screwdriver and a hammer? A saw maybe?"

"No pressure," Alex chimed, a bit relieved that she didn't have to try to fit in with the group that already rejected her. "Frypan's meals are pretty good. Perhaps those will fatten me up, make you change your mind."

Gally laughed at this. "Yeah, right. That's the spirit." He hands her a toolbox and a pail full of nails. "Now move it shank."

Surprisingly, Alex had a good time being a Builder. They were a relatively happy bunch who constantly made jokes at each other, more than once at her expense. She would try to out-rude them and bite back with something snarky. Then just when she thought the argument will turn into a brawl it always dissolved into rounds of boisterous laughter. The Bricknicks would join in as well, creating more ruckus until Gally would shout at them to shut up and get back to work.

Alex turned out to be more useful than everyone originally thought. She was the only one who could climb on top of the narrower wooden scaffolding and hammer away without it splintering and collapsing underneath her.

"Are you sure you don't need another Builder?" she asked Gally. It was late in the afternoon. The boys had called it a day and were heading towards the tool shed by the Slammers.

Gally looked at her as though she had just asked something stupid. '_Don't be too sensitive. Maybe that's just the way his face looks,_' she told herself.

"Nah, we're good for now. It was fun having you around though, silly Greenie."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em> **Regards to **RebellionLies** for reviewing! =) I hope you like my take on Gally. He turned out more civil than I expected. Oh well.

This one turned out pretty short, huh? No worries I'll be uploading more chapters soon. I'm actually going in an upload-a-thon this week in between my packing binges since I'll be moving from Davao City to the City of London on the 11th. I'll be one busy bee by then...not sure if I can go back to this story as soon as I'd like. But I will definitely try. REVIEWS ARE LOVE!


	6. Bathtime

Dinner time. Every Glader save for one sat with the huge group surrounding the outdoor kitchen in front of the Homestead, eating dinner and winding down before lights out. A small figure with a mop of dark hair made her way into the empty bathroon stalls. Green eyes surveyed the scene, looking left and then right. As soon as the coast was deemed clear, the figure scampered to the nearest stall and closed the nearly-useless door behind her.

For the seventh time that week, Alex repeated her nightly routine of bathing in the shadows. Since the first day she arrived in the Glade, she decided she was okay with looking like a boy. But she would have to go bat crazy first before she allowed herself to smell like one. So far, she still had enough sanity intact to know when she was starting to reek.

As fast she she could, Alex got out of her dirty clothes. She ripped the Velcro off of her chest binder last, allowing the contraption to fall on top of her clothes before letting out a sigh of relief. "Yes," she hissed. More than once she had contemplated on ditching the pesky thing. It wasn't like she had a huge rack to begin with but they were definitely noticeable under a thin layer of clothing. A few days ago, she tried wearing a thicker jacket over her shirt to hide her unrestrained lady bits. She nearly nearly died of heatstroke in front of the Track-Hoes. It earned her an earful from Zart as well, from the importance of dressing appropriately to "Stop scaring the klunk out of my boys". She figured she would have to make do with the stuff. Also, she received a fresh batch of boob binders when the Box came up that morning. Obviously, the "Creators" wanted her to keep up with the facade. She had stopped asking why. Unanswered questions did nothing but keep her up at night.

Alex had to crouch down when cleaning herself since the stall doors only provided cover from the belly down. She vowed to one day find a way to break one of these doors off its hinges, just so she can remodel it for her convenience. As she went over her future evil plan she plunges the dipper on a bucket of water and tipped its contents over her head.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's<strong> **Note: **_I'm guessing this one is short enough to be a drabble. Still no Minho, I know. Chill. =)


	7. A Shucking Good Time

Alex was more or less on her third week in the Glade. That day had been the most pleasant by far. Track-Hoes harvested more bounty than usual. The Slicers turned up with meat so good it kept Frypan grinning throughout the day. Sloppers managed to keep the Glade spotless and had attacked all their handmade tables with sandpaper, making the furniture shine under the sun. Even the Runners stumbled upon some important discovery that remained undisclosed to the members of the Glade's lower echelon. It was for this reason that the Keepers mutually agreed to have a celebration that night. There were plenty of food. There were plenty of lit wooden poles that they all got to throw in the growing bonfire in the middle of the Glade. There were drinks of different varieties.

Alex was happily sipping on a fruit juice when Newt came over and handed her a cup filled with a fizzing golden liquid.

"What is this thing?" she brought the cup cautiously towards her nose and took a whiff. It smelled like bread.

Newt shrugged. "It comes up with the supplies every now and then. Take a drink."

She nearly choked as the liquid bit on her tongue. It continued to bite as it traveled down her throat. "Tastes like piss!" she wheezed. The blonde boy chuckled at her misfortune. "You're a sick dude, Newt. I don't know why you like that thing but I'm never touching that again!"

Three hours later she sat face to face with a Slicer named Tim on a small round table. Empty cups littered its wooden surface along with a pitcher full of the stuff Newt had given her earlier. Both Gladers were red-faced and droopy-eyed, having had one drink too many. Alex cursed her fate yet again and wondered how she had gotten herself in this predicament. And as she wondered she realized even her thoughts were slurred.

Across the table, hovering behind Tim were a group of Gladers whispering words of encouragement on the now squinting boy to take down the Greenbean.

"It all comes down to this Tim-Man. Take that toddler down and we win. Easy peasy," Gally taunted. Alex stuck her tongue out at him.

"Not so fast shuckface. Our boy may be tiny but he knows how to hold his klunk in," Minho shot back. Alex leaned back against him as he massaged her shoulder blades. She shivered at how good it felt.

"Greenie don't you dare make a fool of me in front of those guys. Chug it down and keep it down. Good that?"

"Let's go Greenie, we're almost there! Just you and him now!" Ben chimed. Behind him, Zart and the other Track-Hoes watched with wide-eyed wonder at their last man standing.

"If you guysh want to win shooo freakin' badly how 'bout you chug and I sheer?" Alex slurred. She was starting to feel sick in her stomach. Plus, the drink was doing strange things with her eyes. Everything was spinning.

"Runner duties remember? You can't navigate around those walls shuck-faced and puking all over the place. That's suicide."

"And this isn't?"

Minho rolled his eyes at her. His flushed faced showed that even he had a bit too much of the drink himself. "Just do it Greenie. You get a share of the winnings. There!"

She wasn't impressed. "Whatever."

She wished Jeff and Anton were still there with her. Jeff had been one of the first to go, hurling out his dinner after the fifth glass. Anton had been tougher. But on the semi-finals of their drinking contest, the curly top all but died beside her, his head hitting the wooden table with a loud _thunk._ They had to bring him to Clint when it became apparent that he wasn't waking up anytime soon.

Frypan and Alby cleared the table, lining up five empty cups in front of each of the finalists. The Leader of the Glade signaled everybody to keep quiet. Frypan stood at one end of the table, a pitcher of the drink in one hand. Alby took his place at the other end of the table, also holding a pitcher in hand.

Frypan cleared his throat before speaking. "Tim, Champion of Team Gally. Greenie, Champion of Team Minho. Are you guys ready?"

"No," Alex spat. Tim merely grunted.

"Alright let's get!"

Before Alby could even fill his second cup, Tim had already taken the first one and proceeded to dump its contents down his throat. Alex had no choice but to follow suit. The whole crowd erupted in cheers and hoots. Team Gally took the lead with one cup as Tim bulldozed through the drinks like a dehydrated camel. Alex drank at a slower, steadier pace.

"Uh-oh," someone exclaimed as she finished her fourth cup. She put it down daintily and smacked her lips. _Mmm..yuck._

It was then that she noticed that Tim had paused. His hand clasped tightly around his fifth cup. His face had turned an ugly shade of green as he fixed his now wall-eyed gaze on her and blinked slowly.

"Hey Tim," Minho taunted. "You feelin' okay? You're starting to look like an over-sized beetle blade."

"Why are you stopping klunkhead?! Drink! It's not over yet. Drink!" Gally shrieked. Alex cocked her head on one side. "I don't think you should."

"Shut up," Gally snapped. "He's fine. He can do it. Can't you Tim?"

"You sure about that Tim?" sing-songed Minho. "You look a bit sick. How about a whiff of Gally's feet to take the tummy ache away?" Alex punched him hard in the gut. His backhanded attempts at making Tim feel sick was making _her _sick as well.

Tim brought the cup to his lips and chugged. On his second gulp, the drink squirted out of his nose. "Oohs!" and laughter erupted from Minho's team. It wasn't long before Tim's gagging brought out his entire guts' contents right on the table top. Alex sighed inwardly. She had just scrubbed that table shiny that afternoon.

"WE WIN!" Ben exclaimed, exchanging high fives with Minho and Newt. Zart had gone over to ruffle Alex's hideous hair.

"Not yet, not yet," Alby spoke up. "Greenie here needs to chug down every last drop of the drink. _Then _you win."_  
><em>

"C'mon Greenbean!" Minho exclaimed. "Show 'em who's the boss!"

Silence fell on the crowd as Alex took her fifth cup in hand. Wordlessly, she emptied its contents in three long gulps. The third gulp lodged on her chest, refusing to go down.

"He's gonna lose it," someone said.

"This may actually be a draw," Winston said to Gally.

Alex glared at them. With one final gulp, she sent the last dregs of alcohol down her stomach. She felt it rumble in protest for a few seconds before settling down, bloated and stretched to its limit.

Team Minho erupted in cheers. They had won. Unbeknownst to the now drunk Alex, she had just cemented her name as a drinking legend in the four walls of the Glade.

She must have passed out for a few seconds. When she opened her eyes, she was being danced around and bounced on someone's shoulders. She yelped in surprise. Her now worsened sense of balance brought with it a sudden fear of heights. "Ben! Put me down!" As if on cue, she saw the blonde boy doing a jig in front of her. His arms were up and waving around his newly-won glow-in-the-dark shoelaces. Well, actually she won it for him. She looked down and saw thick black hair on top of the shoulders she sat on. "Minho? Hey! Hey-Minho put me down!" Instead of putting her down, the boy grabbed both of her hands, stretched out her arms and spun the both of them like a top. Alex let out a very un-manly shriek that resembled the sound of a dying banshee. She could feel the contents of her stomach bubbling up.

"I'm gonna throw up-put me down or I'll hurl on your hair!"

"Alright, man! Geez!" he kneeled down, letting her wobbly feet touch the ground. Alex dove head first on the earth and stayed down, head too heavy to move.

"Yo, Newt! Give me a hand with our champion here, will ya?"

She heard Newt giggle before having two sets of hands on both of her armpits. The pair proceeded to manhandle her towards the Homestead, leavings her legs and feet to drag against the ground.

"Can you believe this shank?" Newt exclaimed. "I think he emptied a whole keg all by himself."

"This Greenbean continues to surprise me everyday."

"I'm still here," she moaned.

"That was a compliment, slinthead. Newt take his feet."

She felt herself being lifted off the ground them dropped unceremoniously onto a hammock.

"Get some rest, Greenie. You deserve it."

Alex was asleep before Minho could finish the sentence.

Throughout the night she had recurring dreams of piggyback rides and verbal sparring with a certain almond-eyed boy. By morning, she would be too sick to remember any of them.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong> _Finally! The two are talking! Geez, I had to get Alex drunk and give Minho a temporary gambling problem just to get these two together. As always, I LOVE REVIEWS!


	8. A Job That Fits

_**Author's Note:**_ A shout out to **the Med-Jack**, **AriLee**, **Newtie**, **Minholover**, **AndSoTheStarsSwallowedMeWhole**, **TheAliensDidIt**, **RebellionLies**, **Starcrier** and a few guests for your awesome awesome reviews. Keep it coming you guys! Love you!

_**Disclaimer:**_ The Maze Runner Trilogy is not mine.

* * *

><p>Alex's first month in the Glade was marked by the coming of Johann, a sandy-haired boy with a square face and a stocky build. She watched as the new Greenie looked at the crowd in horror, wide eyes darting from left to right. She noticed how he shook like a leaf and how his lower lip quivered, clearly on the verge of tears. It made her wonder if she herself looked just as pathetic as he did on her first day in the Glade. She hoped not.<p>

"We already have a new Greenie and they still can't decide if you're a Slopper or a Track-Hoe," Jeff sat on the table she was cleaning. "Feet of shuckface!" she exclaimed, hitting him with her rag. After hearing it more times than she could count, she was already picking up the Glader slang. "Being a Slopper ain't so bad."

Jeff gave her an incredulous look. "Nobody wants to be a Slopper."

"Nobody wants to be a Runner either. And I kinda like this Sloppering business." Jeff replaced his booted foot on the table top. Alex slapped it away. "Idiot."

The Glade was a vast piece of land. Keeping it clean was a tough job to do especially with the boys running around and leaving their klunk everywhere. Alex wasn't exactly fond of the chores but she liked the way they kept her mopey thoughts at bay. Nothing provided more distraction than the Bloodhouse after a slaughter or the 2-foot tower of dirty dishes after breakfast.

Jeff left her alone with her _weirdness_ and helped the others in unloading the newly-arrived supplies out of the Box. Alex had been watching them at work when she saw a figure coming in from the North Gate. "Slinthead. What's he doing?" she murmured. Minho walked in circles for a minute. To her alarm, his head tilted back, followed by the rest of him and the dark-haired runner collapsed on the ground with a barely audible thud. She was already running to him before she could think of what to do, mouth too dry to scream for help, heart hammering in her rib cage. As she got nearer, she saw him on the ground with his limbs spread out. Relief flooded inside her when she saw the rhythmic rising of his chest.

"I thought you died! Are you okay?" She knelt down beside him. No answer. "Hey. Say something, will ya?"

"D'you have water?" he croaked. His eyes were still squeezed shut.

"Not really-"

"Then get me water," he snapped. "I'm parched."

Alex had to stop herself from slamming an open palm on Minho's face. It was a bad idea to let him talk. Nevertheless she did as she was told and brought him a canteen of cold water. He attacked it with much gusto, draining its contents in seconds.

_Quit staring,_ she scolded herself. She looked down just as he let out a moan of relief. _Geez!_

Minho frowned at her, his gaze resting on the uneven chops of hair against her cheeks. One side was at least an inch longer than the other. The fringe part was held up with what looked to him like a piece of twine.

"You got butt-ugly hair. Can't you do anything about that?"

Alex felt her cheeks heat up under his scrutiny. "Really, now. I've been here for a month and the only thing you noticed is my hair."

"And your amazing drinking habits, of course," he added. Alex rolled her eyes, shaking away the illogical hurt she felt at his remarks. She got up, dusted her bottom and walked away from him. She didn't notice Minho staring after her, studying her movement. His head cocked to one side as though he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

"Help! Help me!"

The cry sounded like it came from the East Gate. Minho thought he was right when he saw Alex heading that same direction. He stood up and followed her. He was a few yards away from the other Glader when he saw her pause at the edge of the Gate. Her face was frozen in horror, her hands clamped over her mouth. Before he could reach her, Alex had already ran inside the Maze. He ran after her, a sickening feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. _Something was wrong_. As he reached the edge of the entrance, what he saw next sent a strong jolt of electricity down his body, immobilizing him.

There was blood all over. One of the Runners, a redhead named Van was splayed on the ground, groaning in agony. His face was paper white. His eyes rolled back to his skull as he as he started to pass out. But that wasn't the worst part of the picture. Half of what had once been Van's right leg was now gone. His right knee ended into a jagged, bloody stump, the blood pouring out of it as though it was a half-opened faucet.

He snapped out of his trance at Alex's screams.

"Minho! Help me!" She already had her hands under Van's arms but she couldn't make him budge. Even with one limb gone, the muscular runner still weighed twice more than she did. Van let out another pain-filled shriek as Minho lifted him with his one remaining foot. The two dark-haired Gladers dragged him into the Glade. By then, his screams have alerted some of the other boys.

"We need to stop the bleeding," Minho said, kneeling beside Van.

"I know. Give me your shirt." Alex said it in such as calm and collected manner that he obeyed her wordlessly. Seemingly unfazed by the blood, she wrestled Van's stump of a leg and wrapped Minho's shirt over the open wound. While she worked on this, he decided to get answers.

"What happened in there?"

"It was a Griever. About two kilometers from the east entrance," Van tried to tell his Keeper as much as possible through the pain. Tears fell down his dirty cheeks and he didn't stop them. "It got Eric. He took off when the thing took a swipe at me but..."

He didn't have to finish the sentence. Minho got it. Eric was the ninth Glader taken by the Grievers.

Alex had secured the makeshift bandage with her belt and had asked Jeff to keep the wounded leg up to slow down the bleeding. By then she was already bathed in blood. Her once white shirt was now bright red on the front part. Her left cheek was also streaked with red. Someone must have informed Clint because the Med-jack smashed through the crowd with his box of supplies.

"It's still bleeding. We did the best we could," Alex sighed.

Suddenly, Van let out an unnaturally high-pitched scream. His entire body went rigid for a moment and then broke into a violent seizure.

"He's been stung. Hold him!" Clint commanded. He rummaged through his kit, pulling out a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

"What's happening to him?" Alex cried out in horror. Even with four boys holding him down, Van wouldn't stop thrashing. Clint knelt beside her, aiming the needle on Van's thigh. With a grunt, he plunges it on the meaty part, injecting all of the liquid into his flesh. The boy visibly relaxed, though Alex could see that the muscles on his face still twitched.

"We need to get him into the sick room," Clint said. Newt, Gally, Minho and the other boys got the convulsing Runner into a stretcher and carried him towards the building. Alex stayed behind, kicking dirt over where Van's blood was spilt to bury the haunting stain.

"Alex get your scrawny butt in here!" Clint barked, clearly irritated. She only managed an "Oh" before scurrying after the boys. When she got beside Clint, he continued. "Listen up you shanks. This one's mine. You're a Med-jack now got it? Get your shuck face cleaned up. I need you in the sick room in two minutes. We got a Glader to fix."

Alex exchanged a surprised look with Minho, who gave her a knowing smile. His random bet had been right. Alex was Med-jack. He won.

As she raced in the bathroom stalls to change, she figured the responsibility she had been given made sense. She didn't know how she knew but for every medical emergency she could think of, she knew what to do. Animal bite? Tie something over the wound. Swish your mouth with oil and suck the venom out. Bleeding? Apply direct pressure over the wound and raise it above the heart's level. She tried to think of an instant in her past when she did these things but not surprisingly, she came up with nothing.

Her mind went back to what Alby told her a month ago. _Builders. Brick-nicks. Slicers. Track-hoes. Something will fit._

_Med-jack._ Alex shook her head in disbelief. Who would have thought?

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Did you guys know that in the original draft, Alex was supposed to get sorted as a Track-Hoe? Clint got away with this chapter. When I wrote down what he said about Alex becoming a Med-jack I almost threw my pen across my room. _You can't just do that! _Because 1) I've already spent five hours studying basic agriculture and the proper way of tree/vegetable/fruit-planting JUST so I would actually know what those Track-Hoes were doing and I could write decently about it and 2) If she goes Med-jack where do we go from there? I've had images of Alex in my head picking tomatoes and getting a tan. Not _this_.

Obviously, Clint got his way. After spending a few minutes fuming I realized that Med-jack Alex made much more sense. 1) Anyone who can keep their cool in the sight of an amputation has more business caring for the sick and less business tending vegetables. And 2) HELLO?! THIS COULD ACTUALLY WORK IN MY FAVOR. A tendency to lean towards the medical field is something we both share so...it works!

Anyways. I LOVE REVIEWS!


	9. Rack

_**Disclaimer:**_ Refer to the previous chapters. Copy. Paste

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><p>She had to learn as much about the Changing as she could in an hour, including every information the older Gladers gathered about it for a year. She had to, to keep her wits about her long enough to help Van.<p>

It was clear that the poor boy was out of it. But every once in a while his whole face would twitch and he would let out a blood-curdling scream that would echo throughout the entire Glade. Clint told her that the Changing was reported to be very painful and that it would bring back some of the victim's memories before entering the Glade. As Van underwent another seizure, Alex couldn't help but wonder. Was he screaming _that_ much because of the pain or because of the memories it brought back? If it was because of the latter, then what sort of horrifying world did he leave behind when entered the Glade? What kind of world did all of them leave behind?

Alex sighed and dipped a rag in a bucket of cold water before placing it over Van's head. She used another rag to gently pat on the feverish skin of his face, arms and torso. It was difficult to ignore the shallow and rapid rhythm of his breathing as the word "infection" repeated in her mind like a loop.

_"Have we got antibiotics? Even the ointment types for shuck's sake?" she had asked Clint earlier while they worked on picking out the debris off of Van's severed leg. He shook his head sadly. "They only send us the basic stuff. The most advanced antidote we have would be the Grief Serum for the sting. That's it." As he said those words, they both knew. Without antibiotics, Van will not make it._

Alex was patting the rag over his belly when she noticed a drastic change in him. Dark patterns emerged from underneath his pasty skin. Minute by minute, these patterns took the form of blue rope-like veins. They covered every inch of his body, even his nail beds which have turned a light purple color.

Fear trickled in her. "Van," she shook him awake. "Wake up. I said-"

Van let out a low growl and grabbed her by the front of her shirt.

As she locked eyes with the Runner, she let out a surprised yelp. Even the whites of his eyes had blue veins in them, making him look like a deranged monster. For someone so sick, he was abnormally strong. His fisted hands wouldn't budge even as Alex clawed at them. He sat up and pulled her closer to him, inches away from his disfigured face. "I know who you are," he rasped, his putrid breath fanning against her face. Alex froze.

_No way._

"What have we done? Why'd they let this to happen to us?" He was sobbing now. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Alex shook her head. "I don't know, Van. I wish I did. Please let me go -AAAGH!" Van had ripped her shirt open. His crazed eyes locked down on her bound chest.

"You're not supposed to be here!" he growled. "Not here! Not in Group A! Alexandriaaa!"

She saw the metal basin on the bedside table. Without second thought, she grabbed it and smashed the hysterical boy with it on the head. As soon as his grip loosened, she wriggled away and made a mad dash for the door.

* * *

><p>"Alexandriaaa!"<p>

Minho was on his way to the sick room when he heard Van's scream, followed by the sound of something hard hitting against bone. He bounded up the stairs two steps at a time. He had barely reached the doorway when a terrified Alex collided with his chest, knocking the air out of him.

"Whoa! What the hell just..." his gaze landed where Van's eyes did a moment ago, "happened?"

"Cut it out!" Alex snapped, pulling her tattered shirt over her exposed parts. Minho, realizing what he just saw, shook his head in disbelief. "Well, shuck me stupid."

There was a loud thud from the room behind them. Van had fallen on the floor in a convulsing heap.

Alex, still shaken from what just happened, could only stare as the Keeper hauled his fellow Runner back to bed. Minho turned to look at her.

"What happened here?"

Alex looked down the hallway to make sure there was just the three of them before entering back to the room and closing the door behind her. Minho raised an eyebrow.

"He freaked out and jumped at me like a lunatic."

"Good."

It was Alex's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Care to tell me when you grew those brea..boo..._rack?" _Minho motioned at her chest, eyes darting everywhere but at it. His olive complexion turned a ruddy shade.

_Rack?_

"I've obviously had them for a while shuckface," she deadpanned.

"Oh alright," Minho took a few steps forward until he was inches away from her. "So what, you just stupidly forgot to mention to us that you're a girl? Is that what happened?"

Alex shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Deep inside, being that close to Minho was making her all sorts of jumpy. "It's not like you've never had any girls in the Glade before." She thought, surely she couldn't be the only one, though she has yet to see another female running around the place.

"If we did they did a better job at hiding it from us," Minho pushed her away and walked towards the door. Alex recovered quickly. She shoved him away and blocked the exit.

"Where are you going?" she asked. This time she didn't bother hiding the panic that shook her voice. She thought about the other Gladers sleeping downstairs, hoping against hope that they were all either deaf or heavy sleepers.

"I'mma buy you a drink, beautiful," his rolled his eyes at her. "I'm going to Alby, klunkface." Without any real effort, he put his hands under her arms and lifted her to the side of the door.

"NO!"

Minho was halfway out of the door when he felt a hand grab at his shirt collar. He growled, grabbing at the hand with a vice-like grip. With surprising grace he twisted his body so he could glower at her, not letting her go even once. Alex stepped back as Minho stepped forward into the room. She couldn't really do much, with one hand on his grip and the other trying to salvage what little dignity she had left with her tattered shirt. They stopped when her back hit the wall.

"Just who do you think you are? What makes you think you can strut in here and not let us know? You're right. We've never had girls come up the Box until you. Why is that?"

"I'm just as clueless you are!" Alex whimpered, prompting him to twist her wrist further. "I woke up in that klunkhole with no idea who I was or how I got here. I swear, Minho! Please you have to believe me!"

"You're the one keeping secrets here, _Alexandria_," venom laced his voice when he uttered her first name. "Now you're asking me to believe you? You really think I'm that daft?"

_Don't cry. Don't cry. _Alex felt fire bursting in the back of her eyes. She blinked rapidly, determined not to break down in front of Minho. "Let me go!"

He shook her hand away making her cry out in pain. She rubbed her left wrist.

"Are you a spy?" he asked again.

"Why do I look spy-material to you?" she spat. Minho punched the wall behind her, making her jump in fear. "Don't get smart with me."

A part of him knew he was being too rough. True, he couldn't remember Alex doing anything that risked any of the other boys in the Glade. But him and the other Keepers thrived on transparency. Their system in the Glade was still a fragile one. A secret this big, no matter how harmless it seemed, could make it crumble. And if he was being honest with himself, a part of him felt insulted that he had been played like this. It had been one whole month and none of them had been the wiser, except him and it was only by accident that he found out.

"Listen to me. I don't want to tell anyone until I'm sure it's safe to do so. I barely know you people," she emphasized each word of the last sentence, hoping it could make the hot-headed Runner understand her point. "So give me a good reason why I should have told you." She cursed when she felt something wet escape her eye. She angrily rubbed the lone tear away. "And dude, I didn't even say I was _not_ a girl. You all just assumed I was a boy. Again I don't blame you." She hugged herself unconsciously. She had been so shocked and scared at how lightning-fast things went downhill that she didn't have the time to feel humiliated until that moment.

"Minho...you have to trust me. Whoever sent me here, I think they want me to keep this a secret too. I know because they've been helping me find ways to keep it that way," she motioned at the binder over chest. "It was already there when I woke up. I'm guessing you're well-aware of the haircut."

"Variables!" Van hissed in his sleep. "Variables for A7's blueprints!"

Alex shook her head, having no idea what Van just said. Minho seemed just as clueless too.

"Please you cannot tell anyone," she begged. "After everything that happened. Not yet."

Minho was still glaring at her. But the murderous glint in his eyes were gone. "You may have your reasons for keeping this from us. But remember, I'm a Keeper. I have a responsibility to these shanks...to tell them everything I know."

"This is not your secret to tell!"

"It became my secret to tell the moment you stepped out of that Box. You know how things work here."

It dawned on Alex that there was no way to keep this secret between the two of them, three if they included Van. Like he said, he was one of the Keepers, a person the other Gladers looked up to. If anything, they made sure that they knew every single thing that was happening in the Glade to keep the system running smoothly. Minho may be a jerk but he was a loyal one. He'd side with his friends no matter what.

_'If the klunk hits the fan now then fine. I just have to show these shanks I can't be messed with,'_ she told herself, already feeling ridiculous as she did.

_'Still if it comes down to it, it's thirty boys against one scrawny girl,'_ a voice in her head taunted. _'Don't forget you're in the middle of a deadly maze too.'_

She thought wryly that maybe she stood a better chance with those feet-loving Grievers than with these boys.

The door downstairs opened and closed with a soft click. It was followed by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.

Alex sighed inwardly, accepting defeat. In a few moments her secret will be out.

Dark brown locked against bright green.

* * *

><p>"What happened to your shirt?" Clint asked as he entered the room.<p>

Minho, who sat half-naked at the foot of the bed, nodded at the sleeping boy beside him. "Went bat crazy a few minutes ago and nearly ripped my shirt in half," he lied seamlessly, waving a tattered piece of fabric as proof. "The shuck face packs a punch for someone who's sick."

Clint snorted and went over to Alex who was facing Van, her back to him. He barely noticed that the shirt she had on was at least four times bigger than the one she wore before he left, or that it was now pale blue in color instead of white.

"He still running a fever?" he asked worriedly.

Alex nodded, "'fraid so."

Clint shook his head. "At least he's sleeping. Come on. Let's get some rest too. It will only get uglier tomorrow."

The two followed the older Med-jack wordlessly. As he flipped the lights off, Minho noticed that his V-neck shirt was already dipping low on Alex's chest, revealing the top of her binder. He subtly pulled the collar up. Alex realized what he just did and smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks."

He scowled and pushed past her.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Finally! Alex is outed! Kinda. How are you guys liking the turn of events so far? Lemme know. Review please! =)


	10. The Deep End

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own The Maze Runner series. Bow.

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><p>Life went on in the Glade. The Builders built. The Track-hoes tilled. The Slicers butchered and the Runners planned. They still talked, the busy hustle and bustle of the Gladers doing their chores still echoing throughout the four concrete walls surrounding them. But the bursts of laughter that frequently came from the different working groups were nowhere to be heard. Every once in a while a sharp scream would pierce through the air, stopping everyone in their tracks. And every time it did, the Keepers would remind their fellow Gladers to keep at it.<p>

The screams went all throughout the night.

"How is he?" Newt asked. They were waiting in line for the dinner ration. Alex shook her head solemnly. "The painkillers do not work on him. And that's the least of our problems. He has lost a lot of blood. The little he has is infected and...I don't know. Everything sucks right now." She poked the dirt with the sole of her shoe.

"Well don't blame yourself, shank. Clint told me you're good at what you do. Now you two blokes are doing everything you can."

"It's still not good enough," she murmured. Before the blonde could protest she quickly changed the subject. "I heard you volunteered to take Van's place. And Minho said yes?"

"Well we're running short on Runners, no pun intended. With Eric gone and Van on his bloody deathbed, there's no one left to man the Eastern part of the Maze. Someone's gotta do it."

"You got balls, Newt," she complimented. Newt raised his eyebrows. "So I heard."

It was right then when she felt someone watching her. She looked behind her and saw none other than Minho staring back. He wasn't even bothered that she caught him at it. The other Glader just cocked his head to the left and looked at her curiously.

As soon as she got her food tray, she excused herself from Newt and the rest of her group and made her way back inside the Homestead. She was in no mood to talk. Ever since she accidentally flashed at Minho they had avoided each other like the plague. He stayed away for reasons she didn't know. She was afraid that the sight of her would change his mind on keeping mum about her real gender. It kept her second-guessing everything she did. With every boy looking her way she found herself asking, _'Does he or doesn't he know? Can Minho keep his word?' _The sleepless nights came as an expected side effect. Paranoia kept her awake. Van's screams didn't help. These things pounded on her mind every second of every day in the Glade that she feared she might be losing it, "jacked" they called it. She was at a loss, both on how to save Van and on how to save herself.

_Eat_, she told herself. _You'll stay sane longer if you eat_. She perched herself on the stairs and attacked her dinner like a rabid animal, humming loudly to herself as Van let out another pain-filled moan.

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><p>One the wee hours of the third day, Clint called every Runner and Keeper inside the Homestead. "If you want to say goodbye, do it now. He won't make it to sunrise." Sniffs and silent cries filled the room as one by one the boys bid their fellow Glader goodbye. Alex sat on one corner, her own eyes red and puffy from crying. She tried to compose herself when she saw Clint making his way towards her.<p>

"Hey. We can't save them all," he said. He took the seat next to her, filled with concern for his new recruit. He was afraid this proved too much too soon for Alex. The younger Med-jack glared at him. "Yeah well. Forgive me, dear Keeper if that ugly truth hasn't sunk in yet."

A part of her knew that what Clint and Newt earlier said was true. But still a tiny part of her refused to believe that Van was dying. _If he could just get past..._

'Past what?' she wondered. There was nothing to go past. The boy was already on the deep end. There was no nursing him back to health.

"Eventually it will," Clint continued after a long pause. "You have to make sure it does. We can't save others if we can't save ourselves."

She looked at her mentor, wondering how many boys he had watched die for him to finally accept this klunk of reality. Though Clint looked to be about her age, it was clear that he was wise beyond his years.

"I'll try."

"Good that."

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><p>Alex was grateful that one of the boys released Van's restraints. They had put it on his wrists the other day right after he threw a punch at Clint. He seemed asleep. She made her way towards his bed and knelt down beside him. "Can you hear me?"<p>

"I'm sorry I looked at your boobs. Had to make sure it was you, Alex." Van opened his vein-filled eyes and smiled at her.

"You could have just asked. That would have saved all of us from a whole bunch of awkward."

"I wasn't...thinking straight?"

"Sure you weren't perv," she laughed. And even as as she laughed, she cried. Her humiliation barely mattered compared to everything that happened to the redhead after that, compared to what will happen to him soon.

"So uh, we knew each other?"

"You can say we were well acquainted."

"And the others?"

Van sighed, "Can't say. I'm afraid they won't let me."

"Who's they?" The sick boy didn't answer, his gaze fixed on the ceiling above them. "Van," she called him again. "Who are they?"

His eyebrows scrunched together, as though he was contemplating on what to say.

"It's alright," she said. "You can tell me."

"You need to help him get the blueprints they need Alex. His life depends on it." When he looked back at her, his eyes were riddled with fear.

"What are you talking about?"

"He's a good candidate. A strong candidate. But they don't know what makes him tick," he was talking rapidly now, as if speaking with a timer that is running short on seconds. Alex was at a loss. "Who? Who's the candidate? Van you're not making any sense!"

He let's out a high-pitched whimper. His hands gripped on his sheets. "Oh Gods..Oh Gods...they heard me."

As soon as the last word left his lips, his whole body was racked with a seizure. It was the longest one he had. His body arched forward as it shook uncontrollably. Alex had to hold his head to keep it from repeatedly banging against the wall. "Help..."

When it was over, he let out a long exhale and stilled. His pupils dilated and his mouth remained open. His chest was still.

Van was dead.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_: And that's it! I wrote this chapter a few hours after my last day at work. It was a bittersweet day for me and I'm guessing that put a damper in my story. Sniff! Anyways, some of you may be disappointed about the lack of Minlex interaction (_**Minlex Lover**_! Hi.) in this part. So was I...tried to add a little something something in between the chapter but it just wouldn't work. I mean COME ON. Put yourself in Alex's shoes. If you're a girl pretending to have a penis and somebody found out that you don't would you really want to hang around with that somebody? No? Maybe, if it was Minho? Good point. Ah well.


	11. Alternative

**Disclaimer**: I disclaim any rights and ownership to TMR.

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><p>Van's death haunted everyone inside the Glade. Alex was no exception. It haunted her in her waking hours and in her sleep. The words "candidate" and "blueprints" echoed in her head, a constant ringing that doesn't add up. And yet, Van <em>had <em>been lucid when he said those words to her. Somehow, it felt as though it was her who didn't know something that Van did.

* * *

><p>Roughly a week later, Alex walked in on Clint while he was writing down a shopping list. He explained that whenever they needed certain supplies they would write them down in a list and throw the list in the Box whenever it came up.<p>

"The next week the Box returns and voila! It's there! Most times."

"Most times?"

"We tried asking for a television a dozen times. A few books as well. And a newspaper. Never comes," Clint looked up from his list. "Maybe then don't want us knowing what's happening outside of the Maze."

Alex scanned the list. It was mostly medical supplies and toiletries. "Hey, can I add something?"

"Sure," he hands her a pen. "Write away."

'#51. Book about medicinal herbs and plants,' she wrote down in neat cursive. Clint chuckled at this. "Actually that's brilliant, shank. I never thought of that before."

"If it comes up we can ask Zart to help up us till our own patch." That drinking game she won during her Greenie days turned out to come in handy when asking for favors from the older Gladers, including Zart. Their winnings included three of the best shovels from the Builders, which Track-Hoe Keeper promptly requested from her the next day. She was too preoccupied with her hangover to put up much of a fuss about it. "We can shop for the seeds right after and voila!"

"Voila...you learn fast." Alex shrugged, fingering the corner of the list. She knew what Clint meant. Van's death was a hard blow for her with him being her first patient. But instead of heading for the deep end because of it, she wanted to make sure she learned her lesson. "We need to save ourselves to save others," she repeated.

"Exactly."

Days later the book came and a week after that so did the seeds. Zart actually smiled when he heard Alex's suggestion and taught the two Med-jacks the essential basics of gardening.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_: This is a breather that I actually loved doing. It's one of those behind-the-scenes that never get published in books and we get to post it up here in . So I posted it. =) ...UP NEXT! Wait lemme hunt down Minho first...that kid loves running around...Minho?! Minho!


	12. Bandages and Thank Yous

_**Disclaimer**_: I...seriously?

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><p>"You're doing it wrong."<p>

"I'm doing it perfectly."

"Tell him he's a screw up, Alex."

The Med-jack looked up from the garlic shoots she was working on and burst out laughing. "You guys are ridiculous!"

Anton was covered in bandages from head to foot. His one uncovered eye glared at her. Jeff was looking at her expectantly, a few more bandages in hand. This morning it seemed like a great idea to train the two in first aid. At that moment though, she realized that it all came down as a terrible joke. Still, Jeff was determined to learn. It would be good to have another hand helping Clint.

She dusted her shorts and walked over to the duo. "Okay, first..you have to cover both eyes."

"But I only busted one eye and it's already un-mobilized," Anton pointed out. Jeff slapped him in the back of the head. "Ha! Told ya so, slinthead."

"You can't immobilize just one eye, Anton. We're not lizards. If you have to keep an eye from moving you have to keep both of them still."

"You shanks got some spare bandages?"

Alex looked behind and saw Newt walking towards them with Minho on his heels, his head down.

"Why, what happened to you?" she asked. Aside from the angry flush in his cheeks from the day-long running, Newt looked fine.

The blonde shook his head. "Oh no, not for me. My good shuck friend Minho here," he pulls the more muscular boy to his side, "decided it would be fun to make out with one of the walls in the Maze."

"Shuck off shuck face," Minho snapped. "I slipped, okay? Not something you haven't done before so...shut up."

Newt had been precise about his description. The raven-haired boy sported a busted fat lip. The right side of his face was grazed from his temple to the right side of his mouth. His right eyebrow was also split open and oozing with blood. All in all, it seemed to Alex that he literally charged into a wall and didn't even try to avoid it.

"So um, I'm guessing you didn't see that wall coming," Alex started carefully. For weeks they had avoided talking to each other and communicated mainly with death glares from him and erratic, shifty side glances from her. She was also well too aware of Minho's temper and big mouth. The last thing she needed him to do was to bellow to the entire Glade that she had a you-know-what instead of you-know-whats.

Newt, on the other hand, had other ideas. He seemed to be enjoying pushing Minho's buttons and laughed mockingly at him. "That was one stupid wall, not telling Minho he was about to smash his bloody face on it. Geez." He turned to Alex. "He rarely makes mistakes ya know. But when he does they sure look stupid."

"Remind me to laugh at you when you hit your face against a Griever's butt in the future. Tomorrow perhaps," he flashed Newt a huge fake smile which opened the tear on his lower lip further. "Shuck!"

Alex had to stop herself from giggling. For someone who rarely made mistakes he surely made a lot of them that lovely day. _And what a baby_, she thought.

"Where's Clint?" He wasn't looking at her. But she could tell from the tone of his voice and the frown on his face that she was the one he was talking to.

"He's with Ben. Poor shank brought a hammer down his own fingernail. Imagine that."

She noticed his eyes rolling upwards. "Of all the times!" He turned tail and marched back towards the Map Room. "Let's go Newt. We got maps to draw."

"No, I think you should have that eyebrow checked first mate,"Newt protested. "Looks really nasty."

"I'm fine," he shot back, not slowing down. Alex jumped in front of him. "At least let me clean the wound, Minho-"

"I said, I'm fine," His voice was dangerously low. Then, he spoke softly so that only she could hear him, "Don't get your panties up in a bunch for me, Alexandria," Alex's eyes widened at hearing him use her first name out in the open. "Get out of my face," he snapped.

"For shuck's sake, man!" Newt's accent cut through the two of them. "He was only trying to help. No need to act all nasty and klunk."

"It's okay. If he says he's fine then he's fine." Alex had enough of him. He could go blind for all she cared. He obviously didn't want her help.

Newt gave her an apologetic look before trailing after his fellow Runner.

"What's up with Minho?" Anton asked when she trudged her way back to them. He might have been blindfolded during the exchange but he definitely heard it all right. "He seems to have beef with you ever since Van...I'm not saying he's blaming you for Van or anything," he quickly added.

Alex shrugged, peeling the bandages off of him. "Yeah I know what you mean." She didn't. But she would rather pretend that she did to keep him quiet, the same way she pushed down the ugly feeling of rejection and pretended to be angry at Minho just to stop herself from wondering why she cared. He didn't matter after all.

* * *

><p>That night, she was still 100% positive that stupid Minho the stupid Runner still meant squat to her, even as she stood outside the Map Room with a small tub of salve in hand. This was purely business. She was a Med-jack. It was her responsibility to look after the health and well-being of all the Gladers, whether they be assholes or otherwise.<p>

_'Don't try so hard. He already said no,'_ a voice piped in her mind. She pushed it back to somewhere she couldn't hear it. _Plus, __I just need to make this even between the two of us_, she thought. That's all there is to it.

She greeted the first Runners to exit the door with a small nod.

"Lookin' good shank. You've packed some meat. Finally," a sandy haired runner whose name she didn't know complimented.

"Aww, shucks. Thanks-oomph!" she nearly coughed out a lung after he slapped her in the back. "Still frail though," he laughed and continued chatting with the other boys.

She did a double take when their Keeper emerged through the door. Even as he glared at her, he looked utterly ridiculous. His right eye had swollen shut and had grown to the size of a golf ball. His cheek looked like it had been stuffed with cotton. When he spoke to her, he did so carefully as though it hurt. "I already told you-"

"Take it," she shoved the salve in his chest. He didn't make any move to catch it from her. "I get it. You don't want my help but I still think going out the maze tomorrow with one eye is plain shuck stupid. At least look after yourself."

"I can handle my-"

"Dammit Minho! Don't make me beg just to get my job done!" A group of younger boys passing by heard the exchange and looked at the pair curiously. Both Minho and Alex glared at them, sending the boys scurrying away. "Come on," she sighed. She took his hand and placed the small container in it. "Now I'll never get in your face again." She stepped away before the stubborn boy could put up another fight.

"Wait." He grabbed her right wrist. She shivered at the jolt of electricity the skin contact gave her. She growled, "Seriously-!"

"Is the sick room still open?"

Alex's jaw almost unhinged from itself, her argument dead in her lips. It took her a few seconds to recover.

"Yeah. Of course. Uh...I'm gonna go look for Clint."

"Don't bother," he replied. He nodded and Alex followed his gaze. A few yards away Clint and Alby sat on one of the tables. The two seemed to be having a serious conversation.

"He's obviously busy. So you do it," he gave her a pointed look. Her jaw was paralyzed for the second time in fifteen seconds. "Let's get it done before we both starve, shall we?"

"Okay," Alex nodded dumbly, following on his heels as they made their way to the Homestead. They had reached the doorstep when he abruptly turned to look at her. "But if you start babying me in there, I'm out. Got it?"

"Yuck! I'd sooner poke your other eye with a stick than baby you," she scoffed.

Minho looked down on her and tried to keep a straight face after hearing this. Alex, however, didn't miss the dimple deepening in his right cheek. Surprisingly, she found herself feeling smug.

* * *

><p>Being alone in the sick room with Minho was unnerving, to say the least. She almost wished he remained pig-headed with his refusal to get her help. Neither said a word as Alex worked on disinfecting his cuts but she could feel him scrutinizing her, especially whenever she had to lean close to his face to get a better look.<p>

_Alright, that's it._

Green locked on brown. She figured if she was going to meet his stare then he would stop looking at her. Her plan backfired terribly and they were now in a staring contest. Even with just one eye, his stare burned her. Alex's stomach did a somersault.

_Look away already!_ she thought.

She saw his gaze land on her mouth, making her jerk back immediately. She let out a breath she had no idea she was holding.

"Geez," Minho mumbled, focusing instead on the moringa paste lathered on his face. He nervously ran a hand through his short hair, making it stick in all angles.

On most days if was easy for him to forget that Alex was a girl. She acted and talked like any other Glader, hauling things twice her weight and mouthing off anybody who crossed her. And yet there were moments when she'd let her little dynamo of a secret slip. Ever since Minho knew that she was a _she_ he became more aware of these little things. There was the sway of her hips when she walks quickly, which puzzled him to no end at first since he thought no dude could ever walk AND wiggle their butt at the same time. There was the way she often tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, or the way her pinky fingers would shoot upwards when something startled her. And then, that thing she just did, biting down one side of her lower lip when in deep thought. It was all there in plain sight to see but nobody ever noticed it except him. And it bothered him that he noticed them. Worse, the effects these little things had on him drove him crazy. It was as if for every little thing that stupid girl did, it felt as though someone had thrown a lit matchstick down his throat and he didn't know why it felt that way. Every single time.

Alex was distracting. Alex was the reason he smashed his face in a gigantic wall that he should have seen a kilometer away, though he would rather pull all his molars out first than admit that to anybody. For Minho's logic, that was enough reason to hate her. And he should..he _did_.

_Why does she have to be so damn stubborn in helping him?_

Most days it was easy to forget that Alex was a girl. That day, with his shucking black eye and her shucking hand on his shucked-up face, was not one of those easy days.

"Glade to Minho?" a sharp sound of snapping fingers made him look her way.

"You said something slinthead?"

Alex rolled her eyes and gently patted a towel on his face to remove the paste.

"Ow! Watch it woman! I got it." He grabbed at the towel. Alex pulled it away and stuck her tongue out at him. "It'll go faster if I do it. You're acting all spacey and I'm starting to get hungry." As if to prove her point, her stomach growled loudly.

They went back to utter silence as Alex continued to clean his face. She was the first to break it after a few minutes.

"By the way," she said, taking the salve from him and applying it on his wounds with the pad of her index finger. "I know it's a bit overdue since you weren't talking to me and klunk but I wanna thank you. For not calling me out on Clint that night."

Minho looked away, clearly not happy with his decision. "I still think it's a bad idea, not telling everybody that you're a girl."

"Not everybody," she smiled at him. Minho gulped, feeling the lit matchstick falling down this throat all over again. _Oh boy.  
><em>

"I mean it, Alex."

She sighed, fumbling with the tub. "This is only temporary, you know. It's just that...I don't want to be treated differently from the rest of you lot. And you can lie all you want and say that things won't be that different from before when they find out I have these," she wiggles her almost non-existent bosom, "but you know that's not really true. And remember how pissed you were when you um..." she was babbling now. She knew she was running out of reasons to hide her identity.

"Exactly. They'll be way more pissed at you the longer you keep this from them."

Alex scratched her hair, undoing the twine that held up her fringe. She hated to admit it but Minho was right. Lying won't get her anywhere good. Still she couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad will happen if she would reveal to them who she really was, irrational as it was.

Minho sighed and patted his thighs with his palms. "You done yet?" Alex nodded at him, giving him space to stand up and leave. "Thank you for fixing my face. Think about what I said, slinthead."

"Sure," she mumbled, knowing full well she already made her choice on the matter. _Hell. No._

Minho had already gone through the doorway when he paused, not bothering to look back at her. "If it makes you feel any better, they won't be hearing about your little girly secret from me."

He didn't say it out loud but Alex somehow knew with the way he said it that he meant what he told her. He was making her a promise.

"Thank you," she said, meaning it.

And then her body did the unthinkable. Her feet closed the distance between them. Before she could comprehend what just happened, her arms went around his torso and gave it a firm and tight squeeze. She was hugging him from behind. Green eyes widened. She was mortified, with no idea what came over her. He visibly tensed, clearly as surprised as she was. It was as though her body had a mind of its own. And then as quickly as it came over her it was gone. The second she regained control of her limbs, she pushed away from him. Humiliation burned her face raw.

"I'm sorry it wasn't me," she blurted out. _That came out wrong._ "I mean I didn't know what came over me-"

"Let's just eat already," Minho mumbled, scratching the back of his head. He was trying and failing to act nonchalant over what happened.

"G-good that," Alex stuttered.

The reached the top of the staircase at the same time.

"Ladies first."

"Shut up!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_: Finally! My 3-chapter type-a-thon is done. Yay! *throws candies in the air* So regarding the last part, I was having doubts about it at first. I didn't think it was possible for ALL of the Gladers to experience loss of control over their own bodies. We've read about it happening to quite a number of them in the trilogy (I don't wanna spoil too much) so I was thinking "Maybe". Then I read the Maze Runner Files, which FORTUNATELY backed up my fiction work with canon facts. =) Hope you liked it! Don't forget to review. I'm always ALWAYS **curious** about what you guys think of this story. Know what? I should totally make a Mary-Sue fanfiction where I'm Thomas' twin sister...just based on the one solid fact that we're both curious. YEAH! Not.


	13. Insomnia

_**Disclaimer: **_ I disclaim everything! TMR is not mine.

_**Author's Note:** _ This chapter may contain a lot of thoughts that don't make sense. I'm trying the best I could to capture the experience we fondly call "insomnia"...ever had it? Lemme tell you it sucks.

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><p><em>Forget Glader slang, what the fuck happened back there?! That was not me. I'm not a hugger! Well...I don't know about before but I'm not a hugger now. Hugging Minho was nothing short of a demonic possession in action. Shit! Oh man...<em>

_Not that it matters but he has nice abs. Seeing it is one thing but touching it? __Kinda like comparing the appetizer to the main course and-_

_WILL YOU STOP IT?! __Stop. Stop. Stop. Right now. UGH! The guy is a jerk. Hate him! And his stupid abs and his stupid butt...stupid AND cute butt._

_HEY!_

_Calm down. You're just hormonal. You're a teenage girl stuck in a maze with a bunch of boys. You'd have to be a Class A prude not to notice some of them. But why him? Whyyyy? There's Newt. There's Ben. Hello, Gally's eyebrows? Hot stuff._

_What do you mean "why"? Tell me you're not asking your crazy self why you like Minho._

_..._

_Alex? ALEXANDRIA!_

Alex let out a low growl and shifted in her hammock. She rolled in her stomach and buried her face against her makeshift bed's rough material. Things were easier when was over-analyzing Van's last words instead of thinking about...well, she didn't want to think about it.

_Him, Alex, _the voice in her head corrected. _You didn't want to think about him._

'Exactly!' she growled inwards. 'Think about more pressing matters.'

_How to prevent the potential spread of diseases among these boys._

_How to beat Adam in the next drinking contest._

_How to minimize the incidence of leg amputations secondary to mid-day Griever attacks._

_How to minimize breast growth in the near future...you might wanna start having long-term plans if you want to cross dress forever._

_Help him...a good candidate...a strong candidate...make him tick_

_You don't think Van is talking about Minho, do you?_

"Of course not!" she hissed at herself. "Just 'cause I have a crush on him doesn't mean-EEK! Lies!"

* * *

><p><em>She's a GIRL for shuck's sake. She's emotional. Emotional people hug others on impulse.<em>

_But you liked it when she hugged you, didn't you? You know, you could've handled that salve on your own, you conniving shuckface you..._

_She was right. I needed medical attention!_

_You needed medical attention or her attention-_

_Shut up! Don't even go there. Not with that ugly slinthead!_

_You really think that? It's kinda dumb to lie to yourself, shank. You like her...despite the ugly hair and the small rack and oh, didn't you hit her there on her first day?_

_I didn't know-!_

_And you even let her ride on your shoulders. Go ahead. Blush. No one will see you._

_I DO NOT LIKE HER!_

_...Maybe you should have listened to what Van said before he-_

Minho punched his pillow more times than necessary before resting his head back on it. Given that he couldn't remember his past, he had never felt more distracted and bothered than he did that night. It bothered him so much since he had prided himself with his ability to remain level-headed in front of everything. Even when he lost his temper he could still think of solutions and ways to get out of a problem. With Alex though, everything made him feel awkward and out of it and eventually, trapped. With a heavy sigh, he forced his eyes shut. His last thoughts before drifting off in a fitful sleep were of green eyes and Gladers sticking their tongues at him.

* * *

><p>The next day while queuing for breakfast, Ben elbowed the guy behind him. "Hey Jeff. Look at him." They both looked at Alex who was seated on one of the tables all by herself. Her face was stuck in a perpetual frown as she repeatedly stabbed her breakfast with a fork.<p>

"What did that omelette ever do to him?" Jeff grinned.

"Oh look," Ben said. "Turns out he's not the only one who woke up in the wrong side of the bed."

A few tables away Alby was breaking up an escalating fight between Minho and another boy. From the raised tones of their voices it was clear that the bantering would have ended into a fist fight without their leader's intervention.

"Shuck it. It's a good thing we don't have to work with either of them hotheads."

"Good that," Jeff agreed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note Part 2:<strong>_ Like I said last week I won't be able to update for a while. I have a plane to catch in a few hours and life will be a roller coaster from there up to a few days at least. This chapter helped a LOT so that I could deal with the (apparently) very heavy feeling of leaving loved ones behind...ever if it's for something as cool as London. Oh well. Don't give up on this story though! I SHALL RETURN! Regards to **valhallababe**, **Yuumii**, **amillipede**, **RebellionLies**, **theevilsquiddancer**, **Nereatje**,** OnyeezU**, **BLUENIGHT23**, and **Danna**! You guys are LOVE. =)


	14. Truth Serum

_**Disclaimer:**_ The Maze Runner isn't mine. I'm going to assume y'all didn't know that already so I keep posting these darn disclaimers every time. =)

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><p>The "good stuff", as Newt called the fizzy drink, came up with the supplies yet again. Alex, like most boys, decided to get her hands on it. She drank until the world spun and then she drank some more.<p>

"Penny for your thoughts, shank?" a familiar voice emerged from the silence. It was followed by the silhouette of a lean boy, taller than her by a few good inches.

Alex shifted from her spot under the acacia tree so that Newt could sit down beside her. They both leaned against its rough, uncomfortable trunk, listening to the deafening silence and the occasional snore of a Glader. It was well past midnight. They were the only ones awake.

"It's past curfew," she slurred.

"Mm-hmm. You can thank me later for allowing you to stay up this late," Newt replied before taking a swig at his drink.

"Eh..figures."

"Well come on now. Spit it out."

A minute passed and neither of them said a word. Newt decided to shrug it off and call it a night."

"I _hate_ this place Newt." Alex spat out the words with so much spite that the blonde's head whipped to his side to look at her.

She clearly looked like she'd had too much to drink. But glaze in her eyes from earlier was gone. Replacing it was a look of bitterness that Newt didn't know she harbored. The past few months she had fit in with them just fine. He assumed she had just accepted their fate. Obviously he got it wrong.

"Why?" he dared to ask.

"I hate how they got us here with nothing more than our first names. I hate the fact that we're trapped in the middle of this fucking maze like a bunch of Griever baits. I hate that Van died. Hate it more that we couldn't at least make it a painless death. I hate that you and Minho and all the other Runners have to go out there and risk your lives every single day looking for an exit we don't know for sure exists. And I hate that these so-called "Creators" are just sitting back, watching while one of us is getting eaten by a monster. I hate all of it."

As if on cue, a beetle blade scurried past their feet. Alby had mentioned to her during her first days that they were used by the people who put them there to spy on them. He had warned her not to touch them in any way. So instead, she raised her left hand and flicked her middle finger up at it. Newt couldn't remember what the gesture meant. But considering the way Alex used it, it looked as if it was meant to be offensive. He raised his right hand and did the same thing. They both snickered.

"The truth is dear Newt, the only thing stopping me from flinging myself off a darn maze wall every day is the people in this God-forsaken place. I don't exactly like all of them. But they make our current situation bearable, even funny at times."

"I know what you mean, Alex," Newt murmured, raising his cup. They cheered on their mutual misery.

"Good that," she replied.

"Good that," he echoed. He swallowed the lump that formed at the back of his throat while listening to Alex's rants. She had just put to words everything single thing that he felt every single day since he woke up in that blasted box. Every single one of them.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Another behind-the-scene one-shot that popped out of nowhere. It's pretty short. So I decided to post this up early on. Not the happiest chapter but I hope you like it anyway. I mean, being stuck in one place can't be all that good. Anyhoo...I'm gonna go extend my 1.5 hour sleep to a healthier resting time. Reviews are always welcome! =)


	15. Haircut

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own the Maze Runner Trilogy. I am not James Dashner.

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><p>It was a relatively easy day for the Glade's two Med-jacks. There were none of the usual cuts and bruises that kept them bustling about. Limbs were kept intact and no new sickness was to be found. By lunchtime, Clint had finished the inventory of all their medical supplies and Alex was done caring for their small "Army of Medi-Plants", as she fondly called them.<p>

Clint looked out from the window from the Homestead's second floor, observing the Track-Hoes in the Gardens. With them was the Glade's new greenie, who's name he forgot, and his protege Alex. Even from afar he could easily spot his protege's mop of uneven hair as she gave them a hand in harvesting that week's bounty. Clint would soon blame it to boredom, but at that moment the proverbial light bulb came to life in his mind.

"Aha!"

* * *

><p>The dandelion seemed to wave at her from where it stayed rooted a few inches from her feet. Like most things in Alex's life she didn't have a clear memory about dandelions in her past. But she knew what they were. And without a doubt, she knew exactly what to do with them. Giddy with excitement, she crouched down and blew at the little weed. She watched the florets float in the air at first before drifting right into the entrance of the Maze.<p>

'Be safe you guys,' she thought.

"Yo, Alex." Clint had made his way into the gardens. In his right hand was his trusty pair of steel scissors, the mean-looking one that he used in cutting cloth and bandages. Alex could swear that the fabric would cut itself in half before the blade even had a chance to touch it. It was _that _sharp.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the shuck ugliest hair in all of the Glade?"

The few Track-Hoes within earshot chuckled at this. Alex rolled her eyes. "Just you and every other Glader. Except Greenbean," she nodded at the mousy-looking boy on her left.

"No, but he's thinking it," one of the Track-Hoes interjected, which caused the small group to burst in laughter. Even the new kid couldn't stop himself and shrugged at her guiltily.

She consciously ran a hand through her chops. Mirrors didn't exist in the Glade so she had no idea just how hideous her mane looked at face value. From what she could tell, it was severely uneven. During her stint in the place the left side of her hair had grown past her chin. The right side on the other hand still had its ends tickling her cheeks and eyes.

"You've been here, what-two or three months? Ever thought of getting a haircut?" Clint asked.

She shook her head. "We don't have a barber."

Clint smiled. He pulled the scissors in front of him and made cutting motions with it. "And your point is?"

Alex gulped loudly. Never had she seen freckles look more menacing than they did at that moment, scattered around the boy's devious grin.

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><p>The maps were drawn. The differences were pointed out. Just like Minho predicted, the patterns from six weeks ago recurred in every maze sector, right down to the last corridor. Still there was no exit to be found, not even a clue of one existing to work with. He could memorize every nook and cranny of his designated sector and he was still at a loss of what those movements meant. After one year of seeing the same results over and over again, even the Keeper of the Runners himself was starting to feel weary.<p>

"Whatever," Minho sighed. "We have all the time in the world to figure out what all this klunk means anyway. Right now let's call it a day." He rolled up his piece of parchment containing a sketch of Sector 7 and put it away for future reference. The others followed suit.

As they piled out of the Map Room, they noticed a group of Gladers gathered together, clearly watching some sort of event.

"What d'you reckon those shanks are up to now?" Newt rolled his eyes.

"Your guess is as good as mine. C'mon," Minho nodded at him and made his way to the crowd, his curiosity getting the best of him.

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><p>The whole time that Clint hacked at her hair, Alex had her eyes squeezed shut. She was afraid that the heavy-handed Med-jack might cut her eyelids out by accident. Now it had been a few minutes since she last heard the sound of blade against hair. Her legs were starting to itch from insect bites and her butt had grown numb from sitting on the tree stump.<p>

"Are you done?" she snapped impatiently.

Clint cleared his throat and mumbled, "Um...yeah."

Green eyes flew open, immediately looking up to catch the now nonexistent fringes. She gingerly ran her fingers through it. It was shorter than she remembered it, even on her first day in the Glade. Another run of fingers-through-hair told her it was a hundred times more even than before. It was shorter on the back of her head. The top part was longer and was parted over her right eye. She had no idea what it looked like but she figured she liked it. She was about to thank Clint when she caught the awkward look in his face.

"What? Why do you look like that?"

Clint gaped like a fish, his mouth opening as if to say something only to snap shut. He did this three times and still failed to utter a single word.

"What did you do to my hair?" Alex's voice was dangerously low. Her glare focused on the pair of scissors on Clint's hand.

"It's not what you think!" he spoke quickly. "Your hair is fine. Really." But even as he said those words he deftly hid the scissors in his back pocket and took a few steps away from the now furious Alex.

"Then why do you look like you saw a Griever or something?"

Jeff, who had stood behind Alex the whole time she got a haircut, walked around the tree stump to face her. "Come on what's the big deal? It's not like-whoa! Oh...my...sweet mother." His jaw looked like it had unhinged off itself after the last words.

Alex's hands flew over her face, her tears stinging the corner of her eyes. Having ugly hair is one thing. Being ugly period is another. "I look like Zart, don't I?"

"I heard that!" Zart snapped somewhere in the crowd.

Jeff shook his head. "Nu-uh. You look..."

"Pretty," Clint provided.

Alex's tears lost their momentum. The sob in her throat had vanished. "What?!"

Anton emerged beside Jeff followed by the other boys. When they recovered from the initial shock, the cat calls and wolf whistles began.

"You gotta be kidding me Clint!" she stood up. Her anger was palpable to the be-freckled boy who took a step back and raised his hands in front of him defensively. "This is blasphemy!"

"What's blas...I said I was going to give you a decent haircut! Kept my word, didn't I?" Really, he couldn't see what he did wrong.

Alex stomped one foot. Her hands planted themselves on her sides. Her pinkies flew northward.

"You made me look like a girl!"

Alby, the defender of the oppressed, jumped to Clint's defense. "Technically y'already looked girly early on. Ugly, sure. But girly nonetheless." His voice sounded neutral and matter-of-fact. Alex, however, did not miss the smile that tugged mercilessly at his lips. 'Prick!', she thought.

"There's just one more thing, shank." Ben stepped closer, his face scrunched up in concentration. She felt him tuck something on her ear and the entire crowd erupted in giddy laughter. It was a flower. "Or shall I call you shankette?"

"Don't you dare get any ideas Ben," Alex stuck her nose in the air and turned to go when her face smashed against something hard. Hands clasped in her arms to steady her.

"Well shuck me. I must be dead," Minho wore the same surprised look she did. For once the cheeky Glader was at a loss for words. Newt chuckled. "You're a cute one Alex."

She's had enough. She ripped the flower off her ear and chucked it on Newt's face. "Not funny. Shuck you!" She pushed off Minho's grasp and bolted away from them, fuming.

As the dark-haired boy watched her butt-wiggling, retreating form he found himself feeling torn. A part of him wanted to drag Clint into the Maze late in the afternoon until the gates closed on him for making Alex look like a girl. Another part of him worshiped the freckle-face for the exact same thing. Seeing her like that for the first time, finally looking the part and not like what Minho vaguely remembered a rockstar wannabe would look like, made pretending for him downright impossible. Alex was a girl, a teenage girl who got the hang of puberty just right. No way can he imagine her as anything else, much less a shank with man parts.

When Newt called her cute he found himself disagreeing with him.

Bunnies and puppies were cute. Alex was beautiful.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ A shout-out to **popsmission, K, TheAliensDidIt, theevilsquiddancer, first time reader, OnyeezU **and **DauntlessFangirl4and6** for your wonderful reviews. You guys are awesome! I am over the moon thinking you enjoy this piece so much! Yay!

For a moment I was a very worried about our accommodation's lack of WiFi...I mean hello?! My friend John is a GODSEND and helped me broaden my limited knowledge of modern technology. I have a low technological IQ. WiFi Hotspot everyone? Anyhoo, reviews are awesome! Till then...=)


	16. Mood Swings

_**Disclaimer:**_ I disclaim!

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><p>"Speak up. I know you're in here."<p>

"Go away."

Minho found the silhouette of the torch a few feet away from the entrance. He fished a small lighter out of his pocket and lit it, bathing the room with soft yellow light. He found her sitting on one corner, her chin resting on top of her knees.

"I'm supposed to tell you that the Map Room is off limits to the likes of you but tonight I'll make an exception."

He sat crossed-legged in front of her. Alex glared at him but said nothing. He made a face, screwing his features into a ridiculous mask. She continued to glare at him.

"You're overreacting," he sighed. "It's not that bad."

"I look like a girl."

"Uh, newsflash. You _are _a girl."

"Shh!" she nudged him with her toe. "Keep it down, will ya?"

"Clint didn't have to do much to make you look like a pansy."

It was only when he saw fear flash through her face that he understood what the fuss was all about. He knew it before she even said it out loud.

"I'm scared. I think it's only a matter of time before they find out about me."

"So? You're just a girl for Pete's sake. It's not like you're a half-Griever mutant who happens to be Newt's long lost love."

Green eyes locked on his. "No, I'm actually Gally's concubine. There I said it," she said solemnly, adding a huge sigh for effect. Minho's eyes turned from almond-shaped to round, something she didn't think was possible. She let it hang in the air for a few seconds.

'This is too cute,' she thought.

"You don't say-"

She burst out laughing, unable to stop herself any longer. "That was...you're...too easy! Your face!" she managed to wheeze in between laughs. She was laughing so hard that when she breathed in, she made a sound similar to one of Winston's pigs. Minho saw his opportunity for payback and laughed twice as hard.

"Quit it," she giggled, which only led him to imitate the pig-like sounds to mock her. "You're gross for a girl."

Minho couldn't stop laughing, not because he found what Alex did _that_ funny but because on the inside the sappy part of him wouldn't stop doing a little cheerdance after seeing her this happy for once. Seeing her happy made him happy as well, which was crazy for him but it was true. He didn't get it and he didn't mind that he didn't get it.

After their giggles came down and they were silent once again, he continued. "But still if you want to act all fussy and shuck about it then they don't have to know yet." There was a long pause. "I can make sure of that."

"Thanks," she smiled, face glowing with joy. She turned to him and wiggled her eyebrows. "Are my girly charms finally getting under your skin?"

Alex knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment she caught sight of his ears turning beet red. He began to act shifty, looking at anywhere but her.

"I'm out of here." He stood up so quickly that she didn't know what happened until he was already on his way out.

"Wait wait wait!" she grabbed his hand with both of her own to stop him. It surprised her how the careless comment got him so worked up. "It was just a joke shank. For someone who jokes around a lot I didn't expect you to react so badly because of that. Geez."

"You may be the only girl around here but you're still a shuck-faced shuck. Try to remember that," he peeled her away from him before storming out of the Map Room leaving the door ajar.

_Oh. Burn._

A blinking red light a couple of feet away from where she stood caught her attention. It was a beetle blade. She had a feeling it had been watching them for awhile, observing their little banter.

"I don't get it. What's up with him?" she asked the metallic insect, at a loss of what just happened. She didn't get it. Really, it wasn't that bad a joke. Was it?

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><p><strong><em>Author's Note:<em>** Another short one. Hope you guys liked it. Minho is such a diva. *rolls eyes*...really now so WHAT if she kinda thinks he likes her? It's kinda true...or maybe that's the point. XDD

Best regards to **TheAliensDidIt, Page 205, popmission, -the Med-Jack, OnyeezU, theevilsquiddancer, valhallababe, A Shadow Rose, Jeffrey Dahmer, BLUENIGHT23, Sugabee14, **and** DauntlessFangirl4and6** for the reviews. You know how much I love them. Love you!

PS: Feel free to ask if something's unclear to you guys. I'm typing away in the middle of a bad case of jetlag. I've been feeling a little out of it since I got here and it might be affecting how I write. Again, just lemme know. =)


	17. Guilty

_**Disclaimer: ** _I do not own TMR. That's owned by James Dashner. I'm not James.

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><p>The sharp sound of snapping fingers made him blink a couple of times.<p>

"Have you been listening to anything I just said?" Newt asked. The blonde's eyebrows furrowed together, clearly showing his frustration.

It took Minho a few seconds to answer. "There was a ravine found in Sector 4."

Newt gave him an incredulous look. He told him that minutes ago. "Un-bloody-believable."

The other Runner, not one to apologize, merely shrugged at him and went back to staring at the northern wall. He stayed unusually still except for the few seconds when his left hand moved his mug of hot coffee towards his lips. And then there was more staring.

"What's the matter shank?" Newt asked. "You've been a little off since last night. You feeling alright?"

"Nah."

"No you're not feeling alright or no-"

"Nothing," the almond-eyed boy gave him a pointed look. "Just nothing."

'Well that's new', Newt thought. He'd been with Minho ever since the thirty of them woke up in the Glade with their klunks scared out of them. That was over a year ago. The whole time he never had any problem letting all the Gladers know if something irked him, even if it rubbed others the wrong way.

_Kid's got a big mouth,_ Alby once told the blonde. More times than once it was a big mouth that got the raven-haired boy into trouble.

"You may be good at a lot of things shank but you suck at being subtle," Newt pointed out. He took one of the untouched sausages on Minho's plate and gobbled it up. "Something's eating at you. Admit it."

Something else he knew about him: The shank wore his beating heart on his bloody sleeve. He was that obvious.

"Tsk. Something's eating at me and I don't want to talk about it," Minho snapped.

Newt knew when not to push his good pal. "Alright. Whatever," he chuckled. He decided to keep mum about catching him mumbling to himself the previous night. He looked like a mess, pacing back and forth by the entrance of the Deadheads, hair sticking all over the place and hands never leaving his waist. He kept repeating "shuck" every five seconds, which he thought was a new record for the potty mouth Runner. Whatever it was, Newt hoped it bothered him a bit longer. The shank rarely worried. When he did he looked really funny for once.

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><p>She stood a couple of yards away from him, making an inventory of the crate of medical supplies that came up from the Box while they had their run earlier that day. He smiled when he realized she still kept her fringe twined up in a ridiculous pompom. It struck him as an Alex thing to do.<p>

Taking a deep breath, he forced his left foot to move forward followed by the right and so on.

'I went too far last night,' he recited in his mind for the hundredth time. 'I never should have said that. You have to admit though it's partly your shucking fault for rubbing it in. You didn't have to do that! D'you have any idea how much it sucks to have a crush on you?' At this point, anxiety erupted in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure if it was right for him to say it out loud but he had to do it, even if he had no clue how she would react and even if it put him at a major disadvantage. He was done with keeping secrets. One secret is enough for him. 'Anyway, what I'm trying to say is-'

"Alex!" a small voice interrupted his thoughts. A younger Glader came from behind him, running towards the Med-jack.

"Come quick!" he exclaimed, fear evident in his round face. "Someone fell down the stairs. I think he busted his knee."

"What? Oh, not again." She dropped her clipboard in the crate and ran towards Minho's way.

"Alex, I'm-" he started. She didn't notice him. She ran past the taller boy without as much as a side glance.

"I'm sorry." He sighed.

_Shit._

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><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em> **It took me longer than expected to post this chapter. I was aiming for yesterday but-ehh-I got tired. So I slept. =) Sorry about the previous short chapter though. A lot of you commented that it was too short. Sorry! I hope this chapter makes up for it...though technically it is also short but it tells Minho's side of the story so...yehey! Because admit it...you were all pretty pissed that you didn't get to hear what Minho had to say about the girly charms issue eh? Eh? Haha! Anyways, thanks for the reviews shanks. I'll never get tired of thanking for that. I love them too much. =) Till then.


	18. Flashbacks

_**Disclaimer:**_ The Maze Runner Series is not mine. Everything I post in this site does not, in any way, provide me with financial profits. Like Sam Smith said, "I don't have money on my mind, money on my mind. I do it for, I do it for the LURVE."

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><p>"What's up with you, pretty boy?"<p>

"Hmm?"

It was breakfast time in the Glade. Anton, Jeff and Alex sat on their usual spot on the farthest table on the left. They were having bacon and eggs that morning, a common favorite the three of them shared. So it bothered Jeff why Alex wasn't attacking her plate with much gusto as usual.

"All that gore in the sick room finally made him queasy," Anton mumbled, his words barely understandable from the sheer amount of bacon he had in his mouth.

"It's not that," she replied, poking her plate lamely. "Has anyone ever gotten their memories back after staying here for a while? Even if its just snippets of them, images that don't make sense."

"You mean you dream about your old life?" Anton asked.

"Exactly!"

"Well, yeah. You get that too, right Jeff? I have dreams where I'm doing something like riding a bike, something I've never done in the Glade. I'm pretty sure it's happened before. Can't remember klunk about the details though. Where I was, who was I with..none."

Jeff turned out to have a handful of them, from hiding in a cellar to running down empty streets to petty fights with other kids. His memories too had missing links in them, like huge holes in a piece of fabric. But the emotions he felt in those memories were stuck with him. He told the two that whatever it was he was running away from when he ran down those empty streets, it had been scary and dangerous, deadly even.

"It wasn't a zombie apocalypse you were running away from, is it?"

Jeff raised his eyebrow at her. "You're such a dork."

Anton and Jeff laughed at her antics. Alex shrugged. "It could be. As if you know anything, Jeff." She stuck her tongue out at him.

"What about you? What did you dream about?" Anton asked her. The two boys leaned in to listen.

"Was it girls?"

"Ha!" Alex rolled her eyes. "No."

"Baby back ribs," Jeff offered.

"Hot zombie girls?"

"I was watching someone run," she said before Anton's imagination took a turn for the worse.

The two boys exchanged looks.

"Oh. What was he running away from?"

"Nothing. He was running in place, on a contraption where the floor part moves back while he runs forward so he doesn't really go anywhere. I don't know what to call it."

"Well that's lame," Jeff commented. "And that's it?"

"Pretty much." Alex shoveled a huge chunk of egg in her mouth. Her appetite returned with a vengeance after she found out that she wasn't the only one having the strange dreams.

Anton wasn't done though. "Did you at _least_ know who this idiot running in place was? I mean who does that?"

The answer was yes. Very. Her eyes landed on the group of Runners queuing for breakfast. The subject of her dream saw her watching, scratched the back of his head and went back to talking to Newt as though nothing happened.

She saw him crystal clear. He was younger, leaner, and clad in white, from his long sleeved shirt to the shoes he wore. He was running as fast as the machine allowed, a tube attached to this mouth to measure how well his lungs delivered oxygen in his body. There were electrodes attached to his temple, monitoring God-knows-what. And she was there watching him. In the back of her mind she was supposed to gather data but she couldn't recall what they were, much less what they were for. One thing is for sure. She knew who he was. And she had a feeling when he looked at her then that he knew who she was.

"Minho. The guy was Minho."

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><p>The possibility that they knew each other in the past intrigued the Trio, even as they went their separate ways to deal with their day's chores. It was as good a guess as any. It could be the reason they got along well enough to start a community despite the memory loss they all went through. Anton chatted up his fellow Bricknicks and found out they all have similar dreams as well, memories of their past so disconnected they provided no definite clue of a Glader's history.<p>

So far only Alex dreamt of another Glader. Anton reckoned that her memory was more recent than the other ones.

'Or it could simply mean I have way too much thoughts of the slinthead in my head,' Alex thought, knowing for a fact that she'd never admit it out loud. She wanted to tell him that his proposed possibility actually had fat facts attached to it. She wanted to tell him about Van, that he recognized her somehow and that according to him they _had been_ acquaintances before the Glade happened. Yet she only needed to remember the panic that spiked his rapid whispers and what happened afterwards to solidify her resolve in keeping her mouth shut. She still had nightmares about it. _'Oh Gods...Oh Gods...They heard me.'_

"Maybe you should talk to him about it," said Anton. She visited him in the Bricknick's shed with a handful of dull instruments in hand.

Alex scoffed. "Talk to Minho?" _Yeah right._ They haven't talked since that night he called her a shuckfaced shuck. "He's too busy with this maze-running business of theirs that he's rarely in a mood for a chat by the time he gets back here."

Anton handed her a sharpened knife, which she checked and noted in Clint's notebook. The Keeper of the Med-jacks was so organized that he wanted everything written down.

"But this is important. Who knows?" he took a pair of scissors this time and began rubbing it against the whetstone. "It's your chance to have a go at helping him with the blueprints."

Alex was so startled that she broke the tip of her pencil. "What did you just say?"

The Bricknick was so engrossed with what he was doing that she had to call his attention twice. "Hey."

"What? Sorry shank but this klunk is too far gone. You need to request for a new one. Put this in the Box along with the request. I heard the Creators do not encourage hording."

She could only blink at him. "You said something about blueprints...just now."

He gave her a puzzled look. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I was right here." This time he gave her a bashful look. "I'm bad at multi-tasking. I've been teased for talking nonsense when I'm working with things."

But it wasn't nonsense. The fact that he was repeating a dead boy's words made it all the more unsettling for her.

_What the hell just happened?_

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><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em>**My best regards to **Olivia, OnyeezU, theevilsquiddancer, New It Inspired, valhallababe, DauntlessFangirl4and6, popmission, Warrior128,** and **msspicyjalapeno** . I read ALL your reviews guys. You are all lovely. Eeeeh! Special mention to** TheAliensDidIt** for his/her (I dunno) UH-MAAAY-ZING proposal. I can't wait! You know what? I'll prolly end up SHARING it to EVERYONE after you're finished with it. =) I'm generous like that.

Now that work has started I'm going to have to juggle a LOT of things. Winter kicking off to a start doesn't help either (was born in the middle of summer in the middle of a tropical country. mama should've named me Sunshine). Sigh. An expat's life is not an easy one. Still, as I've mentioned to you a dozen times, I won't give up on this piece of work just yet. So be on the lookout for the next chapter alright? I may not be able to chuck out chapter after chapter as quickly as before but I WILL chuck out a chapter every now and then. Plus it's a good thing I have Minho as a muse for this one...the shuckface goes crazy in my head if I don't update for too long. Yay! Lemme know what you think and let the review button help you with that. See you. =)


	19. That Time of the Month

_**Disclaimer:**_ Refer to previous chapters.

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><p>For the umpteenth time that day she wallowed over the relatively miserable predicament her life was in. It wasn't fair. She couldn't imagine what it was that she did to deserve this. Fifteen-year-olds should never have to deal with memory loss or man-eating beasts. Those things are never good for their psyche. To top everything off she was hopelessly attracted to the Glade's biggest jerk. That morning she caught sight of his hands and how amazingly hot they looked in leather finger less gloves. Naturally her eyes traveled up to his toned biceps. She had to swallow twice when she saw how the left one flexed when he reached over his shoulder to scratch his back. Then she looked further up north, just in time to see his frowning face looking at her.<p>

_Haha. He hates you, _a voice mocked inside her head.

She thought she was going to cry over her cereals, her mind reeling over what it was she did again that set him off. Again.

'Lovely,' she thought. 'That all you got? Bring in more drama, Glade! I can handle it!'

"What's wrong with you shank?" Clint asked impatiently. "I asked for those fertilizers ages ago. We haven't got all day."

Alex glowered at him from where she sat sulking by the second floor window. The Keeper of the Med-jacks took a step back as his mentee walked towards him. If looks could kill he would have died thrice by then.

"Didn't I tell you I'd be out in a minute?"

"Yeah but that was twenty minutes ago!"

Alex stopped a few inches away from him and clipped her hands on her side. "What are you, eight? Go get it yourself since you're obviously in such a hurry. It's not like we have the rest of our lives in this shucking Maze, Clint. Geez you're so demanding." Another death glare later, the Med-jack stepped out of the Homestead shaking his head. He swore that sometimes Alex's temper was more confusing that Minho's and Gally's combined. One minute she looked like she could barely hurt a fly. The next she looked just about ready to jump at Clint and beat him senseless.

Back in the sick room Alex slumped on one of the beds, feeling guilty over what she just said to Clint, of all people. She knew it wasn't his fault that she was in such a foul mood. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still she couldn't help but take the brunt of her anger out at him. At that moment everything was too much for her to handle. The work. The people. Even Frypan's food was too much for her already bloated stomach to take.

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><p>By late afternoon, her mood shifted from extremely grumpy to just plain sad. On top of it all, her belly ached. She felt like her entire pelvis would detach anytime and she would hear it rattling in there. As payback for her outburst that morning she volunteered to look after the injured for the rest of the day. She told Clint to take it easy, perhaps frolic in the Gardens if he wanted to.<p>

"That's me telling you that I'm sorry for my bratty behavior this morning," she apologized.

Always the smart one, he took the hint, gave her a knowing smile and clocked out for the day.

"Alright. See ya," he said as he walked out of the sick room.

"Later." Alex turned her attention back to her latest patient.

"Will I be able to work tomorrow?" the Glader asked her worriedly. His name was Glenn, a Builder who got hit with falling debris right on the center of his rather prominent forehead. She nodded, securing the bandage over his eyebrows. "But you stay on the ground. No climbing. No sudden movements. If you feel dizzy or weird, first thing you do is come back to me. Good that?"

Glenn nodded, wincing as he did. "Good that."

"Right. Let's get out of here."

The two of them piled out of the Homestead, baited out in the Glade's open air by the scent of dinner wafting throughout the entire field. She spotted Gally with a few other Builders heading for the dinner queue and followed after him.

'He should add helmets in his shopping list,' she thought. The last ting she wanted to deal with was a skull cracked open by a falling hammer.

"Hey Gally," she called out as she walked towards him. A weird sensation caused her to pause abruptly. It was nothing like she had ever felt since she got out of the Box. A wet, hot feeling spread across her crotch, making her self-conscious.

"You okay, shank?" Gally asked. "You look a bit pasty there."

Alex held out an index finger, telling him to give her a minute before she turned tail and sprinted into the toilets. A quick look in her surroundings told her that the coast was clear. She entered inside the nearest stall, locking it shut before pulling down her shorts and undies.

"You have got to be kidding me."

During her first few months in the Glade she had wondered a couple of times why she wasn't getting her period. She had lady bits after all. She knew what it was supposed to do every month in that I-don't-know-how-I-know sort of way. Last month when Auntie Red still didn't visit her, she chalked it up to sterility or her being a late bloomer. It was a baffling but welcomed unusuality. After all, it was hard enough to hide a pair of breasts. Air drying blood-stained underwear could prove more difficult to defend.

Alex was shaken out of her initial period shock when she felt the muscles under her navel tighten. The longer she waited for it to go away the tighter it got until she found herself doubling over from the pain. She had a scary feeling that it was going to be a very long night.

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><p>She didn't show up for dinner that night. Minho sat with the Runners on their usual spot, easily blocking out the mindless chatter of the other Gladers. His quick eyes scanned the makeshift dining area. Her seat with Anton and Jeff was occupied by Clint. He had eyed the Homestead entrance for minutes now and no one came out of the place since dinner started.<p>

_Where are you?_

"You gonna eat that shank? I could use a second helping," the boy beside him pointed out, eyeing his nearly untouched bowl of stew. Minho slurped down half of the bowl's contents with two long gulps and handed it to him. "All yours," he said before standing up and walking over to where Jeff, Anton and Clint sat. The three were talking animatedly about one of the new kids.

"You shucks seen Alex?" he asked nonchalantly, feeling anything but nonchalant on the inside. Just after he had convinced himself to do a take two with the apology speech she decided to disappear. The anxiety that was building up twisted his insides. He just wanted to get it over with.

Jeff nodded towards the Homestead, right on the spot where the hammocks hung.

"He went to bed early. Said he wasn't feeling well."

Minho raised his eyebrow at this. Not feeling well could mean a lot of things.

"I'd leave him alone if I were you," Clint warned. "Shank's been acting antsy all day. I don't think he'll be welcoming any visitors."

"Okay thanks," Minho replied and walked towards the hammocks anyway. He didn't want to be welcomed. He wanted to know what was wrong. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he found himself worrying about her. Alex had gotten so good at keeping secrets that she will probably keep an illness she had based on principle alone.

Just like where Jeff said she would be, he found her in the sleeping quarters in one of the hammocks. She laid curled up in a tight ball, her back facing him.

"Hey."

Alex stirred at the sound of his voice, shifting so that she was facing him. Minho squatted next to her. "I wanted to ask if you were okay. But you don't look like it so...what's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean? I feel peachy," she chuckled. Right after that another wave of cramps racked her insides making her grimace in pain. "Ok, actually I'm dying."

He cocked his head to the left. "You got gas, don't you?" he asked, eyes narrowing into slits.

Alex rolled her eyes. Leave it to Minho to mistake period cramps for gas. "It's a girl thing, slinthead."

"You sure look like you're passing out one." He made an exaggerated gesture of sniffing the air around him.

"It's not gas!" she shot back defensively.

"Then what is it?"

Alex felt her ears heat up so much she thought they would melt off of her skull. Being stubborn and being nosy never added up to anything good. The guy in front of her at that moment happened to be the epitome of both. "It's that time of the month."

Girl thing. Time of the month. The gears in his head worked double time to make sense of the dark-haired girl's mysterious words. His brain strained to retrieve a memory long buried under the weight of his amnesia.

"Come _on_. I'm having my-"

"Yes, I know," he quickly cut her off before she had a chance to finish the sentence. It was his turn to blush. He wondered briefly how he had been doing that a lot the past few days. "Geez man! Why didn't you say so? No need to talk all cryptic because of _that_."

Alex's eyes widened in disbelief. "First you don't talk to me and now you're saying I should've told you about me getting my period? You are one crazy shuck, Minho. And this is all kinds of awkward happening right here."

"It's certainly a sticky situation to be in," he realized too late that he hadn't chosen the most appropriate words to describe what Alex was going through. The hormonal girl had turned a translucent shade of maroon. "No pun intended," he added lamely.

"Go. Away," she enunciated each word slowly, venom dripping with each syllable. "You're disgusting." She shifted to her previous position, curled up with her back against him.

Minho scoffed at her and stood up. "You know what? That's it. I give up! The reason I came here was because I thought you could use my help. You obviously don't want it so how about I leave you alone to deal with your own bloody problem."

Guilt washed over her as she listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps. She knew he was only trying to help. But it drove her crazy that he thought they could just chat about her uterus like they were talking about the weather. And "sticky situation"? "Bloody problem"? She thought someone should put a censor machine over that boy's mouth.

'Oh well,' she thought. Him hating her wasn't new. With a heavy heart, she closed her eyes to get some sleep.

A few minutes later footsteps echoed in the quarters, stopping about a foot away from her. That somebody then proceeded to plop himself down on the ground. Even with her eyes closed, the scent of crushed grass, soap, and boy told her all she needed to know. A small smile crept up her lips as she opened her eyes. He was looking right back at her.

"Look. I don't know klunk about your girly cramps but I know a thing or two about stomach cramps. Food allergies do that. Anyway, lying down on something solid helps. Like a bed." He shrugged. "You can have mine for the night if you want." He crossed his fingers on his sides, hoping she would take the offer so that he didn't have to do the apology klunk for the second time. He simply wasn't good at it.

Alex's inner I-love-Minho-fangirl self did a few rounds of victorious somersaults and one center split upon hearing this. The only evidence of this lunatic inside her was the goofy grin that sprouted on her face. "Really?" she asked too hopefully.

She held on to his shoulder and used him to steady herself into a sitting position. "What's the catch?" she eyed him.

Minho gave her an innocent puppy look. "The way I see it, I'm just doing this out of kindness from my big fat heart. And um," he fumbled with his nose, "Consider it payback for the other night."

_Just say it slinthead! You're sorry! _The voice in his head snapped at him.

"Other than that no ulterior motives. I promise."

_Oh but I do,_ the devil in Alex's mind spoke up. _Ask him to share it with you._

_What? No!_ She shook her head quickly. "But um...where would you be staying?"

He shrugged. "I've always wanted to try sleeping out here. We'll switch for now."

_You're a twig. You'll fit it a single bed just fine. No switching needed._

"Sounds like a plan. Thanks," she replied, squashing the disappointment in her chest.

Very slowly, for Alex's sake, they made their way inside the Homestead.

"Down there." Minho pointed the farthest room on the right, the one he shared with other Gladers. Only the older boys owned a bed of their own. Most of them came up the Box long after all of the bunks had been occupied. "Mine's the one by the window. Sweet dreams Alex." He patted her on the back before turning to leave.

"You don't know a thing about giving up, do you?" she asked bemusedly, referring to his statement earlier on. Oh he tried to learn, alright. But he simply couldn't take "no" for an answer.

Minho looked back at her and smiled, the dimples on his cheeks instantly making him look years younger. "Nope."

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><p>His bed was neater than she expected it to be. Although, if she were to be honest with her self she did expect to find a dumpster on top of a sleeping mattress. The sheets weren't wrinkle-free but it was fixed. The blanket was pulled over the pillow and tucked at the foot part. All in all it looked neat.<p>

_Jump in! _Her fangirl self squealed, which triggered another cramp before she could bark at it to shut up. She crawled in between the sheets and settled down, staying still for a few minutes, allowing his scent to envelop her and make her tingle all over. She flipped on her stomach and buried her face in his pillow. Everything about it screamed Minho.

How many nights had he spent sleeping in this bed? Did he really just give her permission dive in this thing? What the hell was she doing here? And oh my God, if this wouldn't make her fall head over heels with him she didn't know what will. As these thoughts circled in her mind in an endless loop, she drifted into a comfortable sleep, with her cramps gone and long forgotten. A few hours later, she began to dream.

_They were sitting across each other with only a square steel table between them. In the dream he looked younger, perhaps twelve or thirteen._

_"How many times do we have to do this? I'm getting bored," the younger Minho said. His voice sounded smaller but it was breaking in some parts, signalling the start of puberty for him._

_Alex didn't say anything. Instead, she handed him a tablet with a sequence of random numbers in thousandth form. 7289, 9306, 1149, and so on._

_"You ready," she heard herself say, not sure if she had opened her mouth to speak._

_He handed the device back to her. She nodded at him and he began reciting all twenty numbers in the right sequence._

_"How's that?" he asked cockily._

_Pride swelled in Alex's chest and she couldn't help but smile. "I guess that proves it. Frenemy, you are a genius."_

The Med-jack had turned on her back, a trace of a smile grazing her lips as she blinked into wakefulness.

"Geez!" she jumped. A figure stood by the head part of the bed, looking down at her. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at the bandage plastered over the boy's forehead.

"Glenn? What's wrong?"

Glenn said nothing. Instead he brought an index finger over his lips, signalling her to be quiet.

A large hand clamped over her mouth. Her hands raised up to pry at them on instinct. She thrashed in alarm before a heavy weight pinned her down in the bed. Someone had straddled over her and sat down on her torso, making her unable to move. Breathing became difficult. Glenn pointed a knife on the pulse on her neck, effectively stopping her muffled screams.

"Be quiet," he said. His voice was low and devoid of any emotions. He sounded nothing like the worried boy she tended to just hours ago.

Her frantic gaze landed on the sleeping boys in the room with them, urging them silently to wake up. 'Help me,' she thought desperately. 'Somebody help me!' Not one of them even stirred.

The last thing she saw was the image of Glenn putting a sack over her head. And then everything went black.

Downstairs, a few yards away from where Alex was being attacked, Minho lay on one of the hammocks, fast asleep and dead to the world.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note<strong>_: Oh my GOD that long?! Deyyym. I need sleep! Reviews are awesome as always. =)


	20. Missing

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own any of the profits of any Maze Runner thingie/franchise...

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><p>Minho stood frowning by the doorway of their shared bedroom. He had woken up earlier than usual to check on Alex. It was bad enough for him to find his bed empty. But what irked him off was the messy state she left it in. Half of the blanket pooled on the floor along with his pillow and his bed sheet had come undone. He wondered briefly if Alex was a kicker when asleep.<p>

'So much for being thankful.'

After gearing up for the day he scanned the field for the dark mop of hair and familiar haircut. It was nowhere to be found.

"Clint," he called after the Med-jack sitting on a nearby table. "You seen the skinny shuckface?"

Clint yawned as he shook his head 'no'. "I think he's in the Deadheads for the fertilizers. One of our sacks was missing when I checked it a few minutes ago."

"Oh," Minho replied, disappointed. Not like it was a big deal but he wanted to at least have a small chat with her before he spent an entire day in the maze, ask her if she was feeling any better. Last night she had acted as though she was terminally ill.

'Snap out of it slinthead,' he scolded himself. 'You're turning into a complete sap over some girl who's not even that hot. You're shucking up.'

He entered the western gate that day bearing an invisible weight on his shoulders that he could not quite shake off.

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><p>Jeff was in the Bloodhouse helping the Slicers herd the animals in for butchering when one of the Baggers, Dan, came up to him. "Jeff. Alby's calling a meeting with us. Let's move."<p>

The younger Bagger handed back the herding stick and followed the boy back to the Homestead. It was late in the morning. The Glade was alive with the usual activities of its inhabitants but it looked relatively peaceful. He remembered the last time all the Baggers were rounded up for a meeting. Eric had died that day. Van had been stung. 'What happened now?' he thought worriedly. "Hey shank. Any idea what's up?"

Dan gave him a grim look. "You know Alex right? The Med-jack." Jeff couldn't reply. He felt as though a bucket of ice cold water was poured down his shoulders. "Well he's missing," Dan continued. "We're assembling a search party to look for him."

Before they could enter the wooden building, Leo, their Keeper, came out of the door. He was one of the older Gladers, with large round eyes and a thick beard.

"We'll be needing more Gladers," he said. "Tell anyone you can to meet us here."

"Wait, wait. I mean what happened? Alex couldn't possibly vanish into thin air without anyone noticing."

"Exactly, which is why we're turning the entire place over and we're gonna find that shank. Dead or alive."

Jeff knew Leo was only talking. Still, the dead or alive part rubbed him wrong. He felt that it wasn't right to talk like that about someone, like he didn't matter enough that they _had _to find him alive. Alex was one of his closest friends in this prison. For his own sake, he needed her alive.

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><p>Clint had sensed something was off when he went inside an empty sick room that morning. Alex was an early riser. Ever since he made the kid a Med-jack, she had always reported in their workplace earlier than him, way before Frypan rings the bell for breakfast. It was only after everyone began working for the day and there was still no sign of the slight 'boy' that Clint began to wonder. She was last spotted by Gladers last night sleeping on Minho's bed. He knew that Alex managed to strike a bargain with the Runner to help with her gassy fiasco. After two hours of asking around even Alby began to worry. Gladers don't vanish unless they enter the Maze. And Baggers have made certain that no one had gotten out of the Glade save for the Runners.<p>

He knew Alex was still in the place. The question was where? And what happened to her?

Clint, Jeff, Anton and two more boys were tasked to search the right side of the Deadheads, where they bury the dead. The air was heavy and humid underneath the cluster of trees. The smell of rot and decay was evident, something that Clint's nose couldn't get used to.

"Alex!" Anton called, a spear in hand. "Alex, where are you?"

"Alex!" Jeff joined in. Soon everyone was calling out the missing Med-jack's name. Clint had reached the middle of the graveyard, stopping a few feet away from the glass-lidded grave. He shivered at the memory.

He couldn't even remember the boy's name. He had been one of the first Gladers. He still tasted bile at the back of his mouth whenever he remembered what happened after the stupid slinthead rappelled down the square hole where the Box appears weekly. When they pulled him up his lower half was gone. From his waist down there was nothing but blood and hanging entrails. Alby decided to put a glass lid over his grave as a sick reminder to everybody of what stupidity can do to them.

Clint shook his head, ridding his mind of the what-ifs that plagued it. He knew Alex wasn't stupid.

"Alex wherever you are, you hang in there alright?" he called out to no one in particular. "We're going to find you!" With a heavy sigh, he turned around and headed back to the Homestead.

As the Gladers piled out, the graveyard once again became deathly still. No sound could be heard save from the barely audible whimper coming from the glass-lidded grave. Inside it, six feet under the ground, beside the rotting upper half of the boy's body, Alex laid on her side, gagged and bound. She writhed violently, trying to break free of the thick ropes that bound her torso and legs. She didn't need to see much of anything to know. She had been buried alive.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ I know some of you guys hate cliffhangers and all. All I can say is, HAHAHA! Because I like them. And I'm still learning to get the hang of cliffhangers so...MAYBE I'll throw more cliffies in the future. Maybe. And lucky you, dear readers. This chapter wasn't supposed to be due today but whatever. I'm bored. And pissed. My plan to take a stroll down the 'hood had gone out the window because of the crappy weather. Ugh!

A shout out to** valhallababe** (YOURS IS MY LUCKY 100TH REVIEW!), **the Med-Jack, Jaywing25, theevilsquiddancer, K,** and **OnyeezU** for your continuous and awesome reviews. **GUESTS** if you do plan on reviewing do put your name on your reviews so I can thank you as well! =) See you soon.


	21. Jacked in the Box

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own The Maze Runner Series.

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><p>The first thing that hit her when they chucked her in the hole was the smell. It was the rancid stench of rotting flesh, wreaking havoc to her lungs, making her throw up despite the thick layer of duct tape and cloth over her mouth. She struggled to take the blindfold off as well, rubbing her head this way and that. Her face rubbed against pebbles and tree roots, giving her the vague idea that she was underground.<p>

"Put the lid over it. We need to cover the smell," an unfamiliar voice said.

A dragging sound came from above. Leaves and tiny debris rained on her, pelting all over her bound body. When it was the done the air grew humid. The stench of decay was trapped in the enclosed place.

She screamed for hours, hoping against everything that a random Glader would stumble upon her hellhole and hear her. If there was one thing she knew without a doubt that very moment, it was that she didn't want to die. And she definitely did not fancy the idea of being buried alive.

"Alex! Alex where are you?"

Her heightened hearing perked at her name. It was Anton. Jeff called for her too.

'I'm right here! I'm right shucking here!' she wanted to scream. The gag was too thick and no more than muffled moans escaped from it.

_Please Gods, help me._

Her back hit a wall of soil, which gave her an idea. She twisted her awkwardly bound body until she faced the earthen barrier. Then, with a sense of vigor brought about by desperation, she pressed her face against its abrasive texture and rubbed on it. Up. Up. Up. Something snagged against her cheek but she didn't stop. It cut the skin on her face but she didn't care. She could rub her face raw if it meant she could get a chance at climbing out of that place. Victory erupted in her chest as the blindfold slid down below her eyebrow.

"Wherever you are hang in there alright? We're gonna find you!" It was Clint. She rubbed harder, more ferociously until the cloth slipped down her face and onto her neck. She squinted as the blurry images came into view, her eyes adjusting from having been blinded for hours.

"Alex!" The voices grew further. She realized with horror that they were moving away.

'Come back!' she screamed. 'I'm right here! Please! No! Nooo!'

Silence.

That was it. That had been her chance. They didn't find her. Her heart thundered in her chest as the realization dawned on her. She may not have another chance of being rescued.

The tears came in droves, blinding her once again, stinging the cuts on her face. She still didn't want to die. But the logical part of her couldn't shake out the possibility, the _likely _possibility of it happening either.

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><p>Hours had passed. Maybe it could have been days. Alex lost track of time. She was thirsty. The entire left side of her body hurt. She knew for a fact that she stunk. Restlessness plagued her. But she didn't dare move, didn't dare quench her curiosity of what was lying behind her. It was the source of all this god-awful stench.<p>

When her vision returned she saw the hole she was in. Its depth and rectangular shape told her it was a grave. But the dead giveaway though had been the crude glass lid above her, filtering dull sunlight on to her bound form. Jeff's stories came to her mind. On nights when they found it hard to sleep he would whisper about the horrors that have happened in the Glade. He swore to them that they were all true stories.

"Have you forgotten? We're not exactly up-to-date with the world's fictional urban legends now are we?" he would point out.

One such story was about a boy who went down the hole in the middle of the Glade, where the Box would come up on a weekly basis. He had nothing on but the clothes on his back and a thick sturdy rope around his waist which the other Gladers held on to and lowered at his command. Needless to say the story ended in a nightmare. When they pulled him back up he was, as Jeff put it, half the person he used to be. The story went that they buried him under a slab of glass as a warning to all Gladers of the repercussions they might get when they attempt to escape.

Alex knew it would take less than half a carcass for her to lose her sanity at that moment. The last thing she would allow to happen to herself was to go bat crazy and roll around the stinking grave in her own klunk. She would rather die trying to find a way out.

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><p>Another hour passed before the glass above her shifted sideways, allowing a draft of fresh air to flow inside the hole. Alex looked up just in time to see Glenn jump down and land beside her. Before she could protest he aimed a knife on her neck, its tip pressed firmly on the horizontal wound he had given her earlier when she tried to escape. She could feel it digging open the newly formed scab.<p>

Alex refused to budge.

"Good. You're smart enough to keep quiet," Glenn said, smiling as though he was complimenting her for something as mundane as her cooking. She raised an eyebrow at him, green eyes daring him to do more damage than what he had already done. And he did. She groaned in pain as he pulled her into a sitting position. Her muscles had gone stiff for being stuck in an unnatural position for too long. When he looked at her, Alex wondered how someone with such kind eyes could do something this terrible, not just to her but to anybody for that matter.

"I know you have a lot of questions running around that head of yours," he said. "_Why you? What's happening? Oh my Godcould this get any more shucked up?_ And for what it's worth I wish I could give you a fitting answer."

"Hurry up with your speech, slinthead. We don't have much time left." It was the dark-haired boy whose name she couldn't remember.

"Slim it, shuckface," Glenn shot back. He turned back at her. "Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah. Take my word for it, shank. If you've been here as long as I have, you'd realize too that you will be willing to do just about anything to get out. Lucky for you, you wouldn't be hanging around this shucked-up hellhole for long."

There was a long pause. A sense of foreboding came to her, making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"You are going to die. And we are going to get the blueprints so that Minho, with his merry band of runners, can lead us outta here. I know you're chum with him but I'm sure he'll thank me for this."

Alex was frozen in place, in utter shock of what Glenn had just told her. The blueprints. The candidate. Minho. Van's final message. _You need to help him get the blueprints they need...His life depends on it. _It was the blueprints in exchange for Minho's life. Then her life in exchange for the blueprints.

The fight in her was zapped away at the Builder's revelation. She could barely gather the strength to give them a hard time as the three boys roughly hauled her out of the hole like a bound-up boar.

"It's early afternoon," Johann said. "We need to start moving so we can make it back before sundown."

'Move where?' Alex thought through the haze that filled her mind. The two other boys grunted in agreement. Glenn cut the ropes binding her ankles.

"We'll be going for a bit of a walk shank. Rest assured that your contribution to these trials will be considered valuable and appreciated."

_What?_

The last thing Alex saw was Glenn's kind smile before the bag was replaced over her head yet again.

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><p>Minho knew something was off the second he stepped back in the Glade. Everyone looked weary and the air was thick with tension, like a taut string on the verge of snapping.<p>

The Runners from the north and east gates also returned a minute later. It wasn't long before they noticed that something was off as well. One of them stopped a Bagger and began asking questions.

"Minho." It was Jeff calling out to him, with Anton right behind him.

"Nice to see you too shank. I missed the party again, didn't I?"

"It's Alex," the Bagger snapped, not in the mood to be cheeky. "Did he mention anything to you? Anything at all last night?"

Minho paused, taking in Jeff's weary mood, the urgent mention of Alex's name, and everyone else's jumpy demeanor. His stomach lurched uneasily. "Just that he got killer cramps. Didn't sound too happy about it." Then he added cautiously, "what's wrong?"

"He's missing. Nobody's seen him since this morning."

This time the stomach-lurching got so bad he thought he might throw up. "But that's impossible!" he blurted out. "How can someone disappear in the shucking Glade? It's not like they have anywhere to disappear to." If it was possible, he felt more out of breath standing there listening to the news than when he did running in the maze.

"That's what we've been telling ourselves the whole day. Fat load of good that did us," was Anton's snarky reply. "But Minho has a point. It's not possible to disappear inside the Glade. The only place people really disappear to is..." His blue-eyed gaze went to the west gate in front of him.

"Slim it," Minho shot back. Jeff shook his head. "C'mon man. Alex would rather join the Slicers than go wandering in there. You know how terrified that pansy is of the maze."

"Look, I'm not saying he was stupid enough to go in there because it got him curious. Be we got to think of the possibilities. While you guys were out running we've turned the entire place over and we still didn't find him."

A commotion by the south gate caught the trio's attention. To their surprise, Glenn stepped out of the gate followed by two other Gladers.

"That's Johann and Seb!" Jeff exclaimed. "But those guys are Baggers how did they..?"

Newt and another Runner named Frankie came out of the maze last. The latter slapped Johann and Seb upside the head. From the bruises on their faces, it looked like the duo seemed to have put up a fight.

Minho, Jeff and Anton jogged towards the growing crowd. Alby and Newt were stopping Frankie from having another go at Seb.

"Slim it shank! No fighting!" Alby exclaimed.

"Yo! What are those slintheads doing shucking around the shucking maze? They got no business there."

"Been asking them the same question shank," Newt replied, spitting on the ground by his feet.

"And?" Minho asked, growing impatient. Alex was still nowhere to be found and they had to choose that same day to break the most sacred rule of all.

Newt nodded to Glenn as he languidly crossed his arms. "Go on. Tell them what you told me."

The shorter boy raised his hands defensively at the look on Minho's face. After all, the Keeper of the Runners was known for having one of the shortest fuses among the Gladers.

"I want to get out of this place just as badly as you do. I had to do my part."

"You're a Builder. Your part is to make sure we got enough roofs to cover all of our heads." Alby's voice was calm but there was no mistaking the anger bubbling underneath his cool demeanor.

"I'm gonna ask you again shuckface. What's a Builder and two Baggers doing out there in the maze?" Minho stepped closer until he was nose to nose with Glenn, his hard glare never leaving his face.

"I'm helping you man! I'm giving the Creators what they want so that you can finally get them the blueprints-aagh!"

In the blink of an eye Minho grabbed the stocky boy by the collar of his shirt and had him pinned against the wall. Even as he grinned at Glenn his anger was palpable. It gave his dark eyes a sinister glint in them. "I don't know if you've noticed but I have no idea what you're talking about." He pulled the Builder towards him and with surprising strength, banged him back against the wall. "I'm gonna ask you one last time and don't you _dare_ make me look stupid with your vague answers." The grin in his face vanished, replaced by a cold poker face. "What the fuck were you doing out there?"

Glenn's own baby blue eyes hardened. When he spoke, his voice was flat and emotionless. "We did what the Creators told me to do. We took Alex in the maze. They said he needs to die."

It was as if someone had flipped off a switch inside Minho's head. He lost touch of everything. The gasps of shocked Gladers were replaced by a sharp, ringing sound so irritating it fueled his rage further. Dark spots danced in front of his eyes. His limbs, especially his hands, seemed to have noticed how he had winked out and began to have lives of their own. He had lost count of how many times he banged the back of the boy's head against the wall. The only thing that registered to him was that when he was done, there was a lot of blood on his hands and Glenn wasn't waking up.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ (Thoughts while writing down Glenn's stupid speech) You're an idiot you know that? 1) If you really wanted Alex dead you had the knife and the Deadheads to begin with...The MAZE?! Get out. 2) I'm saying this with all honesty..I'm shucking tired of those blueprints. It's the same feeling I had reading The Death Cure. Blueprints. Blueprints. Blueprints. Seriously. Stop. 3) Minho you're obviously being shucked by WICKED big time. I pity you.

I fell asleep twice trying to proofread this chapter. Haha! Sorry for some unseen typos.

Best regards to the following awesome reviewers: Selena, **TheLastTargaryen, Olivia, theevilsquiddancer, gossamermouse101, DauntlessFangirl4and6, valhallababe, the Med-Jack, popsmission, msspicyjalapeno, OnyeezU, TheAliensDidIt, aimesami, K, Monkey D. Writer,** and** A Shadow Rose**. I love you guys! Thanks for letting me know your thoughts, no matter how vague. Rest assured I always try to understand what you want to convey right down to the fifth exclamation point in that sentence. =) But yeah, seriously I just love you period.

PS: I love how Frankie makes a cameo in this chapter... I love playing with minor characters, developing them further than in the novels. They may not have been bff with Thomas and Teresa but they existed in the Glade. I'm sure they all have stories of their own waiting to be explored. =)


	22. WICKED's Breakthrough

**_Special Announcement:_** Please visit vivamente dot deviantart dot com. This belongs to** TheAliensDidIt** and it shows a brilliant drawing of Alex(andria). Thank you! Thank you shank! You da girl! I insist you guys to visit it. I bet she's got loads of good stuff in there...I wouldn't know because my internet provider got my adult filter up and I can't open the site for Pete's sake. Tsk. But from what little I know about her, she's one to look out for. Yee! I don't know how to post a copy of the drawing on my profile so...best stick with DA aright?

_**Disclaimer:**_ No claimer here.

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><p>Jacked. He has heard the other boys talk about it. It happens when something makes you snap. You lose all sense of inhibition. Your thoughts black out. Like a jammed machine you keep repeating the one last thing you were doing before your sanity gave up on you. That day had been Minho's turn. He had snapped. The one thing he kept on doing was banging Glen on the wall over and over and over again. It would be days before he'd get a clear memory of what he did at that moment.<p>

It took Alby a few seconds to snap out of his daze. "That's enough!" Using all the strength he could muster he pulled the raging Runner away from Glenn, who now resembled a limp rag doll. The leader of the Gladers had seen Minho lose his temper countless of times. But this was the only time he had seen him lose his mind. The intensity of his rage unnerved him. Even as he pulled at him, the younger boy kept elbowing him away, his crazed eyes still trained on Glenn.

"Minho I said that's ENOUGH!" Alby shouted the last word so loudly it echoed all throughout the Glade. It was only then that Minho stopped fighting. Alby seized this moment to grab him by the collar of his shirt and pin him against the maze's stone wall.

"That's a week in the Slammer for you shuckface!" Then he added in a low voice, "Make one more move and I'll push you off the Cliff myself."

Minho finally looked at him, his hard gaze challenging his authority.

"Slim it man. Come on we have a bigger problem to face."

"I'm already slimming it," he replied calmly. Alby wasn't convinced. "Get off of me."

The older boy obeyed him immediately. "Good. My eyes are on you shank."

By the time Miinho gained his wits about him, he was already breathing heavily. His hands were shaking and they were bathed in blood that wasn't his. His gaze landed at Newt who stood a few yards away. The blonde was too stunned to do anything. Glenn's revelation and Minho going bat crazy at him came as a double shock to everybody, even for the Glade's most seasoned occupants.

"Newt. Frankie." Minho sounded strange even to himself. His throat hurt even though he couldn't remember screaming. "Where did you see these shucks in the Maze?"

"About half a mile from the entrance," Newt replied. "They looked lost."

"Any signs of Alex in there?"

Newt and Frankie exchanged glances. The latter shook his head sadly. "We don't think so, shank."

The Keeper blinked back the pressure pushing from behind his eyeballs. 'This can't be happening.' His vision blurred for a second. He then turned to Seb, who was on his knees and held in place by two Baggers. "You," he said. "Where did you take her? Him?" he asked, quickly correcting the Freudian slip.

"About an hour away from the entrance." Seb shook like a leaf under Minho's glare. "But we were walking."

He squatted down in front of terrified Glader. "You wanna specify that some more or do I need to break your face too for you to remember?"

"Minho!" Alby growled.

"I'm shucking calm!" he shot back.

"It was a cul-de-sac of sorts," Seb spat out as quickly as he could. "With a large puddle of water in the center. There was a trail of ivy heading towards it. We wondered if you guys did it."

Hope sparked within Minho. He knew exactly where that was. He had ran through the south gate before. He had that part of the maze memorized by heart, all the six patterns it changed into. His watch told him he had about an hour left before the gates close. It will be cutting it close but it was possible.

"I'm going in."

Alby was startled at Minho's declaration. "The hell you are!" He blocked the entrance, bracing himself from another of Minho's tantrums. "You can't go back there at this time. It's too dangerous, you know that!"

"I'm Keeper for a reason, Alby. I'm the fastest Runner you got, the only one who can run that distance and back in one hour. The gates do not close completely for two minutes. That's more than enough time." He eyed the maze entrance behind the muscular boy warily. "Unless you decide to waste it with your useless sermon."

Alby was torn. He wasn't fooled by Minho's reasoning. Going that far in under an hour was as good as suicide. Still, he didn't know Alex that well but he knew Minho. Arrogant shuck as he was he wouldn't think twice about taking risks for his friends' sake. And he would never back down on anything once he had his mind made up.

"Alby what's there to think through?" his voice grew louder with every word. "If I go out there the kid at least stands a chance at living. If I don't, might as well chisel his name off the wall 'coz there's no way he's going to make it."

"You said it yourself, shank. You're the Keeper of the Runners. We need you more alive than as a precautionary tale." He sighed, accepting defeat. "Try to stay alive."

"Consider it done," Minho smiled cockily. After jumping in place a few times he started off in a fast jog. A few yards inside the maze he looked back at Alby. "I'll head back in half an hour, with or without him." Alby knew that was a lie. But he'll find a way to make it back. The shuckface always did.

As they watched Minho's retreating figure, Gally approached Alby, giving him a disapproving look. "Still a stupid, arrogant shuck, I see. D'you think it was a smart move letting him to back in there? He's almost as good as dead."

Alby could only shrug. "I don't know."

What he did know was that it was stupid to stop Minho from doing something. He'll just end up watching him getting his way anyway, except that he'll be doing so with a black eye and a ruined face.

* * *

><p>Minho wasn't lying when he said he could run three miles and back in under an hour with time to spare. What he didn't mention and what Alby already knew was that doing a straight run and looking for someone in the gigantic maze were two very different things. Search parties done in the maze took one or two whole days. They stopped the searches after the fourth missing boy when it became apparent that nobody survives a night in the maze.<p>

He had never felt so torn. A part of him wanted to screw the rules and take a risk by staying behind until after the gates closed. If they left Alex where they said they did, he was confident he would find her before the night ended. And that was if a Griever didn't find her first. The more logical part of him screamed at him to screw the plan right then and there. What good will finding Alex do if they ended up trapped in the Maze anyway? They will be dead before sunrise. It pained him to admit it but despite all that he was willing to risk for her he could never choose her over the rest of the Gladers. He was a Keeper. He helped built the place. They needed him. The realization dawned on him that perhaps the best thing to do was to give her up. Thinking about it tore at his guts, making his breath hitch on his throat. His eyes stung and his vision blurred.

"Get your act together dammit!" he screamed, wiping away the angry tears that escaped the corners of his eyes. The little things literally hurt and they fell in droves, taunting him endlessly of the inevitable failure he was hopelessly fighting against.

* * *

><p>Thomas trained his brown-eyed gaze on the screen showing Subject A7's vitals. After months of studying the boy's physical reactions, he only needed a split second to know that Minho was currently on the run. Worry came over him at seeing the same pattern twice in one day. Fatigue had always been a huge risk for every Glader who became a Runner. In a place as medically ill-equipped as the Glade, too much of this can prove fatal. Minho was especially at a huge risk since he had a knack for pushing his limits. Many times in the past, especially during their first few weeks, Thomas thought he would see boy literally drop dead on live camera.<p>

Cardiac arrest, however, was not his biggest concern at that moment. Right next to the screen showing his sats and heart rhythm, another one showed a coronal view of A7's killzone. Its active parts glowed bright red like a bonfire starting in plain, gray background. He studied the current scan and cross-checked it against his brain waves and previous brain activities. The results made him gasp.

He had seen signs of it starting up weeks ago but he had never seen Minho react this much to any of the stimulus they had given him in the past. Many parts of his killzone were actively stimulated, most of which they had a hard time studying months ago. He pressed the record button to make a new file of A7's brain scans, saving it in a folder which was actively expanding on a daily basis.

Behind him, he heard the familiar sound of hiccups and sniffing.

"Get your act together dammit!"

He closed his eyes shut at Minho's anguished cry. They told him things got easier with time. Time, however, seemed to be lagging behind on what it was supposed to do.

"Are you taking down notes, Thomas?" Janson asked him. The excitement in his voice was obvious. He didn't have to look at him to know.

"Yes."

The older scientist scribbled down some notees on his clipboard before gazing into the map of Minho's killzone.

"Brilliant isn't it?" Thomas didn't answer. Janson continued, "Finally, we're getting something out of A7. He's become more perceptive to the variables presented to him. This individual trial may conclude earlier than we thought."

The trial was about to end. Thomas felt sick to his stomach but hid it brilliantly well.

_"Promise me one thing, Tommy. You take care of him. He's worth it you know."_

It was small progress but it was a good start. Thomas might get to keep his promise after all. That didn't mean he was free of guilt's burden, which was currently weighing down on his slumped shoulders.

Leaving Janson behind, he turned his back from A7's screen and focused on one of the screens showing live feeds from the Beetle Blade Cameras. One of them had a clear view inside sector nine, which showed the image of a vast labyrinth and a lone figure standing in the middle of it.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em>** If you're tired of cliff hangers, don't blame me. Blame Three! I'm supposed to post two chapters simultaneously today but our internet connection got jammed this afternoon. Worse, it jammed AGAIN when I clicked save AFTER I finished the last part, which meant I had to retype that part all over again. Butt load of sunshine right here. Hence I just have this one up for now. Not making any promises for another one in a few hours but I'll try. Sigh. Sorry for being so hangery. Sigh. Busted fanfiction. Busted long distance relationship. Busted timetable. All because of faulty internet connection. Gaawd.

Inspiration of Minho's wrath: It was a scene in the Death Cure where he repeatedly kicks on one of the WICKED guys after tackling him down and after he was told to stop doing the damn thing, an image which unnerved Thomas...and me...a little bit. So yeah..I wanted to channel that rage from that book to Glenn's face. Hope I did well.

Special thanks to! **the Med-Jack, DauntlessFangirl4and6, mistystar123, Olivia, K, TheAliensDidIt, Selena, sour sweet gone, OnyeezU, msspicyjalapeno, popsmission**. You guys already know why. And that I love you.


	23. Tandem

_**Disclaimer:** _ Disclaimer

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><p>Deep in the belly of the ivy-walled maze, a figure stood. She was hunched over, with her arms twisted and tied behind her in an odd angle. A thick rope bound her arms to her torso. For a few minutes, she could do nothing but stare blankly at the never-ending twists and turns that lay ahead of her. Her mouth would've hung open in shock if Johann hadn't taped and gagged in shut earlier that day.<p>

_You are going to die._ Glenn's words echoed in her head. Alex didn't want to acknowledge that he was right. But in the state she was currently in, he very well could be.

The urge to panic was there and it was real. She could feel it gripping at her bones, trying to immobilize her. It was the stronger will to live that pushed her to put one foot in front of the other, to move and move until she could find a way out.

'Keep walking,' she urged herself. It didn't matter if she was going the right way or not as long as she wasn't glued in one place. She peeked nervously into the sharp turns which were surrounded by the cold darkness. She stayed close to the wall on her right, going with its flow, turning to every new corridor it led her, all the while praying and hoping that there would be no Griever nearby. She had never seen one before. But she remembered all too well what it could do to flesh and bone.

The right turns led her to an opening as huge as the Glade itself. It ended about a kilometer away from its entrance with five more corridors lined side by side. Sunlight poured from the sky, casting a golden hue on the dusty limestone floor. As she looked around, taking her time to guess where the nearest exit could be, something on the left wall caught her eye. The letters W.I.C.K.E.D. glared at her in bright red fifty feet above the ground.

_Wicked._ It didn't ring any bell.

She decided to drop it. She had more pressing matters to deal with, so pressing she didn't think her day could get any worse. That was, until a low rumble started from up ahead. It was faint at first, its volume increasing rapidly by the second until it got so loud it shook the ground she stood on.

'I spoke too soon again, didn't I?'

Like lightweight dominoes, the walls of the corridors ahead shifted laterally with a deafening boom, creating one massive, dead-end wall. To her horror, she realized that the other walls were shifting as well.

She turned tail and ran back as quickly as her legs allowed her to the narrow path that lead her to the open space. She managed to squeeze herself in the way just as its walls groaned and moved with a loud crack.

Everything around her was chaos. Walls twisted in every way possible as she ran past them. The floor underneath her shifted, forming potholes inches from where her sneakers pounded the stone floor. She stubbed her toe countless times and she was always just about to lose her balance but she never stopped running. Her mind was a buzzing static of nothingness. It couldn't even form a coherent thought of where she was heading. Her body was fueled by pure adrenaline.

There was another gut-shaking crack and Alex skidded to a halt. A few feet from where she stood, the floor split in half. One end of it began to rise like an uneven seesaw until it was high enough to become another wall that blocked her earlier path.

_Not good! Not good!_

She turned right, scurrying towards a narrow walkway. There was no way to tell how long she had been running but it was taking its toll on her already beat-up body. She couldn't catch her breath any longer if she continued to run. With shaking knees she leaned against the cold stone wall.

_You are going to die...You are going to die..._

'I'm going to die.'

Everything hurt. Her binds not only made it difficult to run, it also made it difficult to breathe. Her shallow puffs did little to ease her burning lungs.

'Am I really going to die?'

Her thoughts drifted on the most random things. Their army of Medi-plants. Jeff's obsession with bandages. Anton's curls. Frypan's bacon. Minho's red-faced smile that night she won her first drinking contest.

She snorted at the silliness of it all. Here she was, about to bite it inside a random giant maze, not knowing why things had to end that way for her. And as her life passed in front of her eyes it paused on her crush's dimples. She found it a bit cheesy and very pathetic.

Green eyes flew open. Her mind was made up. She wasn't biting it just yet. 'Not like this,' she thought. 'Not when I have so much to fight for.' Clint needed her. Everybody else kind of did as well. She realized her life wasn't just hers any longer and she had no right to give it up without a fight.

As if challenging her, the wall behind and in front of her inched towards each other. She was in the middle of the narrow passageway, too far ahead to go back and too deep inside to finish the run. In a split-second decision, she risked everything and charged through as the walls got closer together. A few seconds into her attempted escape her left shoe got snagged on a deep pothole, sending her flying forward with a heavy thud. She wriggled her way to the path's exit, realizing with horror that she was moving too slow. She won't make it like this.

A pair of hands grabbed the back of her shirt, making her yelp in surprise as its owner hauled her out before the walls crushed her.

"Get up! Get up!" She was lifted up on her feet, too stunned to move on her own. She felt hands against her face, forcing her to look at familiar almond-shaped eyes. Eyes that for a few terrifying seconds, she thought she would't see again.

His face was flushed. He was shouting at her. But it felt as if someone stuffed cotton in her ears.

_Minho?_

"-run!" It was the only word she caught and she didn't have to be told twice. With him leading the way, the two navigated through the maze as its walls collapsed and shifted, obliterating its previous paths and forming new ones within seconds.

He was really fast. Alex barely kept up but she didn't dare lose him from her sight. Every once in a while he would look back at her, urging her to keep running, to run faster, to stay close. Simple as those words meant they couldn't get through the haze in her brain, where the only sentences that repeated themselves in a loop were, "Minho is here. He came back for me. Minho is here. He came back for me."

"Stop, stop, stop." He held out his hand and she skidded to a stop. He took her face again, his calloused hands turned it this way and that. His own face was an unreadable mask.

"What the shuck did they do to you," he mumbled. His hands were so nimble she didn't even notice him untying the cloth over her mouth. She winced when he ripped the duct tape off her lips.

"Shuck," she hissed, spitting out the foul residuals in her mouth. _Disgusting!_

"If you think that hurts brace yourself for this," he warned. He turned her on her back and slid a knife on the ropes around her wrist. And then he worked on the rope around her torso. The binds came loose, her arms fell on her sides like limp appendages. Alex let out a pained scream.

"What the hell did you do?" she howled.

Minho rubbed her shoulders briskly. "It's just cramps."

'Just cramps' didn't stop her from sobbing. Her arms might as well fall off from their sockets from the looks of things.

When she gathered her bearings a few seconds later, she squinted through the pain and looked up at the sky above them. Dusk was coming. "How much time do we have left?" she rasped.

"Twenty-two minutes. We're only two miles away from the south gate." He looked over at her worriedly. "Easy peasy, isn't it?"

Alex only managed to grunt in between breaths.

_Run two miles in twenty minutes? Sure! Kill me._

"Alex, please. I need you to run like your life depends on it. Because it does. So does mine."

She looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. He slipped her hand into his and gave it a firm squeeze.

"Either we both make it out or we both do not. I hope as hell it's the former or Alby will be bat crazy pissed."

* * *

><p>The two runners were an unusual tandem in the maze. One was tall, broad-shouldered and sure of himself. He moved with a tempered confidence that could only be given by the countless hours spent in the deadly labyrinth. The other was slight and weary, feet pumping twice as hard to keep up with her pair. And yet they clicked together, working with an unexpected harmony that was not always seen in every Maze Runner duos.<p>

Minho wouldn't slow down for anything, slowly pulling her to his side whenever he felt her trailing behind. She was on the lookout for potholes and cracks on the ground, pushing him aside whenever one comes in the way. He would swerve for a second before latching back at her.

"Don't let me go! Faster. This way!"

A loud rumble came from up ahead, echoing towards them.

"Shuck! It's the gate!," Minho exclaimed. "Run Alex!"

Alex ran so fast she barely felt her feet touch the ground. They were so close. So close. They turned left and saw the rectangular shaft of light up ahead. It was the south gate. But walls were still too far and closing in too fast. Desperation kicked it.

"It's closing!" She couldn't let out more than a few words before she ran out of breath. She pulled her hand away, pushing him on the back, signalling him to go ahead without her. He can make it. She wasn't so sure. Minho grabbed her hand and held on to it tighter.

"You and me remember? We can make it!"

"Hurry up!" She could hear the voices up ahead.

"Almost there!"

"Run shank! Run!"

With one final burst of energy Alex sprinted faster, pushing past her limits and past everything she thought she was capable of. By then, the distance between the walls had gone so narrow that they would have to run sideways to get past it. Minho pushed her foward, forcing her to go first. She screamed in protest.

"Hurry!" he screamed at her.

She scrambled sideways, clawing at the walls for leverage to get through it faster. After a few frantic steps she was back in the Glade. It was unthinkable.

Behind her, Minho cried as the walls pinned him in place and began to crush him.

"NO!" she ran back towards him, pulling at his shoulders with all her weight. "Come on!"

_Don't you dare kill him._

The walls closed with one final thud.

Minho was too weak to stop his momentum. He stumbled forward and fell on top of Alex.

"Can't breathe," she gasped. Gally and Alby had to roll him off of her and onto his back. The two lay side by side, both too breathless to talk.

"Let them breathe you slintheads! Don't suffocate them," Gally barked at the small crowd gathering around them. They sounded too echoey and too far away.

She blinked rapidly as the darkness crawled at the corners of her vision.

"Get them upstairs," Clint called out in slow motion. She watched silently as blurry-faced boys eased an unconscious Minho on the stretcher. As they lifted him up, his right hand shot out and closed around her wrist with a death grip.

"No!" he cried. "No!"

"Let go, shank. You're both fine now. Hey."

Someone pried Minho's hand away from her. She sighed in relief.

_Gods, they made it._

With this in mind she let the darkness take over her, lulling her into a long dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Here's the thing about homesickness. It strikes any time anywhere, whether you're walking back to your flat after work or lying in your bed sleeping to the music of Ed Sheeran. After that rather uncomfortable wake up call and crying like a day-old Glader for a little bit, I decided to grab my laptop and get to work. You'd think I'll reach out for my 8-week-long elearning homework, right? Of course not. All of that will be done three days before the deadline...just like the good 'ol college days.

On a lighter note Onyeezu mentioned to me earlier that Ki Hong Lee (aka Minho) was voted Sexy Number Four by People Magazine. I googled it and sure enough, it was there. I laughed for a good one minute. Dunno why. But it's good news! Congrats Ki Hong.

Anyways...reviews are love. Love you.


	24. A Deviant's Fate

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't claim anything.

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><p>"Thomas, open up!"Teresa's fist pounded against her best friend's bedroom door.<p>

The fifteen-year old woke up with a start. He jumped out of the bed and yanked the door open. Teresa's fearful, round eyes greeted him. Despite the many years they've known each other, they still managed to startle him with the way they stood in stark contrast against her pale skin.

"What?"

"We have an emergency. It's A6." Without another word, she grabbed his hand and forced him on a brisk walk all the way to the Killzone Study Room. As they hurried, Thomas' mind went through the catalogue of Gladers they have sent in the Maze.

_A6. A6. A6._

"That's Clint," he blurted out with a start. He was the Keeper of the Med-jacks, one of the important figures that allowed Subject A47 to blend in with the Gladers. Unknown to the soft-spoken boy, he was a key character in guarding the real identity of WICKED's most secretive gambit yet.

"What happened to him?"

"Janson thinks he's about to deviate." Teresa threw him a worried glance. "He thinks that he's about to discover that they have a girl in the Glade."

Thomas went silent, at a loss for words and suddenly feeling very tired. The entire day had been a roller coaster ride for him. Like most of the people involved in the Trials, he thought Janson had gone too far with the Maze test. Not to mention, he just about condemned three of their subjects. Thomas had ordered a cadaver bag earlier that day in the event things went the way they anticipated it. They didn't though. Minho had reacted in the best way they could hope for.

For the fourth time since the Trials began, A7 had overridden the self-preservation bias they have activated in every Glader that became a Runner and reverted back to his true personality, something Thomas thought he had a knack for. The seamless way he had jammed their billion dollar technology and the circumstances that surrounded that "reversion" had scientists taking down notes and planning further studies before they even made it out of the Maze. For them, WICKED had hit a gold mine with the subject's patterns. Janson became an overnight hero. On the background, Thomas was left shaking. It was both from holding his breath for too long and the subsequent relief that the two Gladers' safety brought him.

_For now,_ he had thought. He knew better than to expect that relief to last for long.

As the entrance to their study room came into view, an old conversation came into mind.

_"I don't get it. What will stop me from telling them I'm a girl when I'm not supposed to remember anything?"_

_"Implanted biases in your killzone should do it. We'll program you to be repulsed from outing yourself at all cost."_

_She cringed. "That's mind control you creepy freak."_

_"Not exactly. Nobody can actually control the mind, you know. If it were possible, this problem with A7 wouldn't exist to begin with."_

_"Minho."_

_"What?" The female subject said it so quickly he thought she said "minnow" as in the fish._

_"We subjects have names too, you know. Kind of like you, Subject Thomas."_

* * *

><p>They found a sullen-looking Janson hunched in front of one of the screens, his eyes boring holes on it. Thomas stood behind him and watched the events unfoldon screen. It was a live feed from a Beetle Blade camera, which showed what was happening in the Homestead's sick room. Jeff was attending to a sleeping Minho, checking his pulses and removing his shoes before tucking him in. Thomas glanced at the screen showing the Runner's vitals. Everything looked all right. All he needed was a good night's sleep. After a few more minutes of poking Minho on the face and getting nothing more than a few snoring sounds, Jeff gave up and bid Clint goodbye.<p>

_"Let me know when they wake up, yeah? Or if you need any help or...something."_

_"I will,"_ Clint replied. _"Thanks shank. You did really well today."_ He went back to treating an unconscious Alex, whose face and hands were peppered with tiny scratches and bruises.

"What do we do?" Teresa asked urgently. The Med-jack had finished tending her neck wound and proceeded to check the rest of the Glader for any hidden injuries, starting with her arms.

Reluctantly, he turned to Janson. The older man gave him a solemn look.

"If he finds out-"

"You know that cannot happen, Thomas," Janson said firmly with an air of finality. "Only A7 was given a clearance to be exposed to A47's variables. This is still an experimental set-up. If A6 deviates from the prescribed variables arranged for them, his patterns will be rendered immeasurable. Void. We'd have to take him out of the Trials."

"You mean we have to kill him?" the younger boy asked incredulously. He didn't need to ask though. He had seen what happened to every Glader-turned-Deviant inside that Maze.

"We can't have him put the Trials at risk."

"He doesn't know about the Trials, Janson." Thomas found it ridiculous. They were the ones who put the experiment at jeopardy by sending a girl up in the Glade way before Teresa's schedule. And for what? To milk out all they can on the Glade's most viable candidate to date? Because he had so much to give but provided too little data to support it? And Clint had to pay if they messed up, as if what they were doing wasn't messed up enough as it is. It wasn't fair.

_What can I do?_

As if to answer his question, a Beetle Blade focused on Alex's troubled face.

He pointed a slender index finger on the screen. "We need to wake her up." Without another word, Thomas went to work, rummaging through the female subject's memory via their server for anything he can use to salvage the remains of what might be Clint's final moments.

* * *

><p><em>"Wake up, baby girl."<em>

_The dark-haired girl stirred in her sleep. Her lips parted slowly as though she was about to say something. Sleep, however, was pulling her back in._

_"Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up. WAKE UP!"_

_The image of a man appeared in front of her. His face was pock-marked with sores from his forehead to his chin as though he had been digging on his face with his broken fingernails. Some of the sores oozed blood. But it was his eyes that unnerved her the most. Bright green and crazed, they glared at her with so much scorn that she had never felt as much hate as she did that very second. The lunatic grabbed her under her arms and hoisted her up in the air. _

_"I said wake up! You useless piece of-"_

_Alex was too stunned to scream as she felt herself being thrown across the room. _

Before she hit the floor, the dream came to an abrupt halt. Another pair of green eyes flew open as she jerked awake. Instinctively, her right hand flew up and slapped Clint's away, which by then was on its way to inspect an odd lump underneath her clothes.

_"That's enough klunk for now, Clint,"_ Alex said with a voice that had gone hoarse from sleep.

_"Geez shank! You scared me!"_

Thomas bolted up from his seat in front of the monitor and ran to one corner of the room. He took deep, gulping breaths, fighting the urge to throw up right then and there. He had saved Clint temporarily. But his mind kept going over what could've happened had his plan not worked. He'd be needing that cadaver bag after all.

"Tom," Teresa's voice sounded from behind him. A warm hand rested on his shoulder, urging him to look at her. "Remember the reason we're doing this."

Thomas never forgot. They needed to find a Cure for the Flare. No matter what happened. No matter what the cost.

"How long will this go? How long before I get to go in there?" The longer the Trials went, the harder they became for Thomas to stomach. He wanted nothing more than to go in there. The Swipe seemed a fair price to pay if it meant he had what it took to help them get out of that god-forsaken place.

Teresa cupped his cheek, rubbing its delicate skin with her thumb. "They're not ready for us yet. You know that. The least we can do is try to hold on for a little longer. Okay?"

Thomas nodded, swallowing down a lump that formed in his throat. With it went down the guilt and the burden of seeing those boys, people he once knew, suffering for a greater good they had no idea existed.

"That was an excellent job you did back there," Teresa smiled. The dark-haired boy shook his head. "Not good enough. We can't have any more of those boys playing Peeping Tom on Alex. We need to get the rest of those blueprints as soon as possible."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <strong>_When asked who my geeky Glader crush is, many people are surprised when I blurt out "Thomas!" (Dylan is soooo cute! *heartsy eyes*) considering I Google/Youtube/Facebook/Instagram Ki Hong Lee on a regular basis (For character reference. I want to incorporate as much of his looks and mannerisms with my version of Minho considering...duh). Minho is my favorite Glader. But it's Thomas who I find adorable...even though as the trilogy progressed I wanted to slap him across the face more often and ask "Are you SURE about that whole martyr act? Because that's the seventh time you're doing it and that's the seventh time you'll get someone else in trouble...Minho moreso than most Gladers." *shrugs* Just sharing.

Oh and I'd like to give a shout out to a whole bunch of awesome people, namely:** Fin, amillipede, DauntlessFangirl4and6, Alnna, TheAliensDidIt, valhallababe, K, msspicyjalapeno, popsmission, Jaywing25, Monkey D. Writer, Selena, Olivia, theevilsquiddancer,** and **the Med-Jack **for being awesome enough to review and lemme know what you think. I've repeated this every chapter because every chapter it still rings true. So um..cheers guys.

Inspirations for this chapter: A botched science project back in my elementary or high school days. Something about not following constants and whatnots. And a bunch of interviews by James Dashner which are posted in youtube in a page called Chicken House Publishing. One of them talked about who our favorite Glader is named after and the other video explained why there was only one girl in the Glade *wink!wink!* Guess we should keep this a secret from Mr. Dashner then. *insert bwahaha*


	25. Undone

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own James Dashner! Wait that came out wrong.

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><p>Minho was doing his run on the northern part of the maze called Sector Seven. It didn't look like "The Maze". Instead of massive, ivy-covered concrete walls this one was made of thin plywood. He could very well bulldoze through the material and on to an exit but he didn't need to. He had seen the map earlier and had memorized it down to the last dead end. And while he knew this maze was different, he didn't mind. He navigated every twist and turn with the grace and speed of a seasoned Runner. It wasn't long before he reached the exit. A figure stood on the way. It was a girl with long black hair that fell to her waist. When she caught sight of him, she gave him a big smile and waved excitedly. He smiled back, reaching the finish line with a loud whoop.<p>

A cold, female voice announced his time over the speakers. "Eight minutes and twelve seconds."

"I'm the man!" he exclaimed, fanning the collar part of his long sleeved white shirt. The girl clapped her hands slowly. "That's the fastest time anyone ever got. I'm impressed," she said before giving him a wink.

"Impressed? Sister, you are in love with me. Admit it." He turned his back on her as he continued to catch his breath. He loved the rush those daily runs gave him.

"I am. You knew that. Why didn't you save me?"

He quickly turned to look back at her, startled by her question. Thick rope now bound the girl's entire torso and her hands were tied behind her back. Her face was a mess. A gash ran the width of her neck so deeply he thought he could see muscle underneath the torn skin.

"I waited for you and you never came! Why? Why?!" She was crying.

"...Alex is that you?" Dread filled his guts. "But...we made it back to the Glade. I don't understand." Memories of the south gate, of his rescue attempt resurfaced in his memory. He remembered collapsing on top of her. Alex was _alive._

"What's there to understand? You left me. I'm dead because of you!" she screamed.

* * *

><p>Dark eyes flew open. Minho sat up, gasping for air. His shirt and sheets were soaked through with sweat. As his sleep-induced daze wore off, he realized he was in the sick room. From the sunlight pouring in from the window he could tell it was mid day. His gaze landed on another bed across the room. It was empty and looked as if it hadn't been used in a while.<p>

"Alex." He remembered the state he found her in, the cuts, the angry-looking wound on her neck. She was a shucked-up train wreck. _Where is she?_

He jumped out of bed, immediately regretting his decision as the entire room began to spin. His nightmare gripped him with fear. Alex was dead._  
><em>

"No. No, it can't be." He shook his head to fight the dizziness and wobbled his way to the door. He ripped it open and found her standing there with a surprised look on her face, her hand positioned by the knob on the other side of it.

"You're awake!" she exclaimed. Her hair was short again. Her face was dotted with scabs and bruises but it was Alex. And she was alive. It was all he could think of at that moment.

When Minho neither moved nor spoke after a long time, she added, "When did you-" The tall boy grabbed her by the arms and easily pulled her into the room. He was still staring at her, his almond eyes wide open and unblinking. It felt as though someone had filled his lungs with helium. He felt like he was about to float.

"Where were you?!" he demanded angrily. Alex was appalled by his insane reaction and tried to shrug his hands away, which only succeeded on them holding on to her even more. "I said where were you?!"

"Will you slim it?" she shot back. "I just went down for a bathroom break. Relax." She also changed her bed sheets after she bled through them but he didn't have to know that.

He let out a strangled cry and pulled her into a bear hug. She was startled by his behavior. She had been hustling and bustling in the sick room the whole morning and he had slept through all that noise like a log. Then he woke up and became a doped up version of his insufferable self.

"Minho what's wrong? Your heart is racing."

She could feel it pounding loudly against her own chest like war drums. His breath came out in hot quick puffs against her neck and he was shaking. Unsure of what to do, she rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him down. It was the first time she had seen him act like that. Knowing his versatile temper, she was wary on how to go about approaching him.

"Don't ever do that again." His voice was deeper. It cut through her like ice.

"What, pee?"

"Leave my bed in a mess. Pull a disappearing act on everyone. Have random boys pull you in the shucking maze. Scare the klunk out of me." He whispered the last sentence so softly she barely caught it.

The Alex from two days ago would've swooned and flew up in the air with heart-shaped eyes upon hearing that. Things changed though. There was something about sharing a near-death experience with someone that deepens one's connection with that person. She knew she felt that way with him. Suddenly her teenage mega-crush on the bad boy seemed superficial. She felt something deeper towards him now, something akin to genuine admiration and respect.

"Swear it!" He squeezed her tighter.

"I swear! I swear. Hey, look at me." She wanted to push him a little further so she could look at him. He wouldn't budge. A wet, sniffing sound came from behind her, making her pause.

"Minho-?"

"I need a minute," he replied, his voice hoarse and scratchy. Alex understood. She hugged him back and stood on her tiptoes so she could gently rock him back and forth. Most of the time he was silent. Only the occasional hiccups gave away the fact that he was crying. She could only imagine how awkward it was for him, for someone who had a reputation of being tough as nails, to end up breaking down in front of her of all people. Still, Alex would be lying if she said she hated everything she was seeing. She liked how it proved to the world that Minho was still human after everything he'd been through.

When he pulled away, he immediately turned his back on her and faced the blank wall by his bed.

"How long was I out?" he asked, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Half a day. The entire night before that. Clint said you ran yourself to exhaustion so I'm guessing you needed the sleep."

Minho rolled his eyes in annoyance. Great. He missed the day's run.

"One of the more seasoned Runners took over the west gate for you," she added, reading his mind.

"Oh that's...great."

Silence fell over the two of them. Alex didn't know what to say with him refusing to look at her. His ears turned a bright shade of red. Just when she thought they would go through the night not talking to each other, Minho broke the silent spell.

"I gotta go pee," he said before bolting out of the door.

Alex sighed, collapsing on her newly-made bed. That was awkward. And if that blush told her anything it was that she wasn't the only one who felt that way. A smile crept up her lips. She had no idea what to expect from him when he woke up from that stupor but it wasn't _that_. Minho, the person who always had a comeback for every single damn thing, was rendered speechless. And she was right there to see it all happen.

_Man, that was priceless!_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ I was very adamant about the crying part of his chapter. I entertained a lot of what-ifs regarding that god-awful hiccuping noise. What if he developed a throat infection? What if he choked? What if he was hungry? Meh, whatever. Lemme know what you think in the review page. *shakes head* Seriously Minho?!

Inspiration of sap portion is the 6-minute short film titled "This Time" by the Jubilee Project starring...guess who? =) Yeah. Even the girl in the film reminded me of Alex...even though technically that's not how I imagined her to look like. That make sense? No? Okay, review!


	26. Parting Words

_**Disclaimer:**_ I do not own TMR. Or James Dashner. Or Minho. Not even Ki hong Lee. And never Dylan O'brien. Yeah.

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><p>"What's happening in there?" one of the boys asked in hushed tones.<p>

Alex was on her hammock, wishing she could be anywhere but in the Glade. For hours she had tried and failed to tune out the murmurs of everyone around her.

It had been two days since the attack and their narrow escape from a night in the Maze. Clint cleared them to go that afternoon, right in time for two Council Gatherings. The first one had been to formulate a verdict on what to do with the Keeper of the Runners after he thoroughly smashed one of the Gladers' face. The older Med-Jack told her all about it a few minutes after she woke up.

_"You should've seen him going at it, shank. He was bat-crazy jacked. Even Alby had a tough time reigning him down. Glenn was a pulp by the time he'd finished."_

Worry weighed down her shoulders since then. Anyone who had lived in the Glade long enough knew how the Keepers and Alby dutifully followed their rules, especially the major three. If worse came to worst, Minho could face banishment. So it came as a huge relief when Zart went out of the Homestead for a supposed bathroom break and reported to her, Anton, and Jeff the Council's verdict on one of their own.

"Newt managed to haggle three days in the Slammer, with one meal a day within that period." Minho's saving grace in front of his fellow Keepers had been his successful one-man hunt for Alex in the maze. The blonde Runner played it well, making the most out of it.

There was a collective sigh of relief within the small group. But no shoulders weighed lighter at the good news. After Zart quietly slipped away from them, the three went back to their spot in the sea of hammocks, still uneasy and feeling unusually cold.

That had been two hours ago.

At that moment, the fate of the three boys involved in the attack were being determined. Most of the activities in the Glade finished early. Even the Cooks and Sloppers were taking a breather, dreading the result of the second Gathering. Jeff and Anton were lounging beside her, saying the same things everyone had been whispering around the Glade. The meeting was just a formality. Long ago, the Keepers and Alby had already decided on a fixed punishment for attempted murder. Apparently it happened on several occasions during their earlier days.

"It's surprising is all," Anton said. "Glenn was alright. Calm. Smart. Of all the people who I thought would lose their marbles, he was the person I least expected."

"So were Johann and Seb," Jeff replied. "I worked with those shanks. Man, this sucks big time."

She didn't think it was possible but the weight Alex had been carrying around her shoulders got heavier to the point that it started crushing her. Guilt and anger swirled in her chest, twisting around each other until they got so tangled up she couldn't tell one from the other.

'It's not your fault,' she reminded herself. 'You didn't ask for it to happen!' Knowing that didn't help though. After all, nobody wants to own up to the fact that three people may die because of him or her, no matter what the circumstances.

She threw her thin blanket over head and slipped further underneath it, blocking out Jeff and Anton's voices and forcing herself to drift away from the present. She did it so well that before she knew what happened, she found herself back in the glass-lidded grave screaming her lungs out.

* * *

><p>The Council Gathering was disturbing. In the history of the Glade, they have never simultaneously tried three Gladers for the same act. Minho slouched on his seat on the far left of the group and crossed his arms defensively. Of all the duties he had as a Keeper, this was the only one he loathed doing. Nobody in his right mind would want to vote for somebody's death. Somebody had to do it though.<p>

Alby took his seat in the middle of the row. He nodded at the Keepers one by one, signalling for them to get ready. He looked at Minho last, who shifted his gaze to the side before nodding. This was it.

"Bring them in," Alby called out.

Gally and Leo ushered in the three boys. Each of them had bound hands. A noose was tied around each of their necks and these were attached to a single leash made of thick, rough rope. Leo tied the leash on a giant metal ring attached to the Homestead's wooden wall, all the while ignoring the whispered pleas of his fellow Baggers.

"Have mercy."

"Please don't kill us."

Only Glenn remained composed, his steady gaze fixed on the wall behind the Council members. His face was black and blue and his nose looked broken.

"Glenn of the Builders," Alby's booming voice echoed in the room. "Johann of the Baggers. And Seb, also of the Baggers. You are brought in front of this Council today to stand in trial for two major violations. First, you have broken the third rule and went inside the Maze despite having full knowledge that you are prohibited to do so. Second, you have severely violated the second rule by attempting to murder another Glader. Namely, Alex of the Med-jacks."

The hair on the back of Minho's neck stood on its ends. It was unsettling for him to hear "Alex" and "murder" used in the same context.

"Your ruthless actions nearly led to the death of two of our own, one of them a member of this very Council."

At this, Glenn locked his gaze on the Keeper of the Runners, who stared back at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Tell us what happened," Alby continued. "We will hear your side. We'll give you that much."

"The Creators spoke to me," Glenn said matter-of-factly. Hisses and whispers erupted among the Keepers.

"How and what did they tell you?" Newt asked.

"Oh, we're gonna _love_ hearing this," Minho chuckled.

"Slim it shank," Newt cut him, impatiently raising his left palm in front of him.

Glenn paused for a few seconds. With one fluid motion he raised his right index finger to his temple, tapping it twice. "In here. It started weeks ago. Whispers at first. Then it grew louder by the day. A few days ago it got so loud that I finally understood what they were trying to say." The blue-eyed boy turned to Minho. "They said the only way we're getting out of here is if we give them the right blueprints. My guess is that they were talking about the Maze."

"The Creators built the Maze," Gally countered. "Why would they need a guide of something they created?"

Glenn shook his head. "What else would they be talking about?! We all know that in here all that matters is that shucking Maze!"

"Where does Alex come to play in all of this? He's a Med-jack." Alby's tempered tone stood in stark contrast against the Builder's agitated one. Like everyone else in the room he thought the idea was insane. Voices in someone's head was never a good sign, especially in the Glade. But he wanted to get to the bottom of this. After all, he will be the one passing the sentence.

"There's something about him." For the second time that day Minho felt an uneasy pang in his stomach, almost like guilt but not really.

_"This is not your secret to tell!"_ Alex's desperate plea that scandalous day echoed in his mind.

"Whatever it is, they want it. I don't know why. All they ever told me was that if we end him then Minho gets the blueprints."

The raven-haired boy sat up straight at the mention of his name. All eyes were on him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Makes sense doesn't it?" Glenn continued. "You're a Runner, the best one we got. You can memorize any map within minutes. Get your hands on those shucking blueprints and we're outta here. Come on, what's one boy in exchange for all of us left? We don't have to live as Griever baits for the rest of our lives!"

"Not now shank." Newt threw his friend a warning glance, knowing fully well that Minho's temper had just gone from zero to boiling point in two seconds. The last thing he wanted to happen was for his hard-earned plea of minimal Slammer-time to explode to nothingness due to the slinthead's short fuse.

Minho inhaled deeply, trying to shake off the urge to throttle Glenn senseless. "If you thought for one _second_ that I'm just going to allow a Glader to die in exchange for anything, you're one jacked-up shuck."

Glenn had the gall to chuckle at this. "Jacked-up you say? If I was then why'd these two hear it too?"

"Did you now?" Leo asked skeptically.

"Y-yes," Johann stuttered. "We both thought Glenn was crazy too when he told us."

"But then we heard it too," Seb added. "We can't be crazy when there's three of us hearing the exact same thing. Kill Alex..."

"...and Minho gets the blueprints," Johann continued. For the first time since the trials started, the scared boy looked up to face the Council. "It was him or Minho. We made our choice."

"I knew early on you didn't have the balls to make this one sacrifice. So we did it. We took him to Maze and left him there to die, just like they told us." Glenn's voice was unnerving with its lack of remorse for what he did. To everyone in the room, it sounded as though he was talking about nearly killing a pet instead of a person. And that it was by accident. At that moment, something chilling happened. A tremor ran on one side of his face. Glenn sharply twisted his head to the left, grunting.

"Glenn, what's that?" Leo asked warily.

The Builder's baby blue eyes zeroed in on Minho before he gave him a devious grin. "But I should've ended that little shit with a knife when I had the chance. Squealed like a girl when I ran the thing across that lovely neck."

Newt quickly made a grab at the boy beside him but he was a second too late. Minho was quicker. Like a reenactment of that fateful day, his thoughts winked out as he jumped at Glenn. Nothing registered in his mind even as he grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt and shook him as hard as he could. All he could hear was ringing in his ears. All he could see was red static.

"GET A GRIP ON YOURSELF, YOU BLOODY SLINTHEAD!" Newt screamed. It took him, Gally and Winston to pry the two boys away from each other.

"I'm getting sick of them tantrums Minho," Alby warned before turning to Newt. "You better find a way to control that shuck or I'm chucking him off the Cliff as soon as I can."

"I'm sick of them too!" Minho shot back angrily, shrugging the three Gladers off of himself. Contrary to how things may usually look, he didn't like having his short temper get the best of him. When people rubbed him the wrong way he usually got by with a smart comment that was enough to shut most people up, even Alby. With Glenn, it was as if the kid knew when to say the wrong things at the right time to get him into trouble. The most disturbing part was, Glenn looked as if he knew this fact too.

"Anything for the blueprints," he murmured.

Gally slapped him on the backside of the head. "Slim it, shuckface. Don't make things harder for yourself."

Minho spit on the floor by Johann's feet before walking back to his seat. "You know damn well what I'm voting for Alby."

* * *

><p>It was late afternoon when Alex was shaken awake by a nervous-looking Jeff, successfully putting an end on her hideous graveyard dream.<p>

"It's happening," he said. She knew what he meant and shakily got up to her feet. Like most of the Gladers, she made her way towards the north gate where a crowd started to form. She reached them just in time to see Alby grab the noose around Glenn's neck and yank him inside the Maze.

_"If it's a serious offense he did, he gets taken to the Cliff. I personally push him off of it."_

Alex shivered when she remembered their leader's warning. Had it only been months since that talk? She felt like she had aged many years since she woke up in this trap.

Johann and Seb were kneeling on the ground by the entrance of the gate. Around each of their necks were cloth collars attached to individual metal poles. Several boys held on to each pole, holding their prisoners in place. She spotted Minho standing a few feet away from Johann, his arms straining as the restless boy fought against his restraints.

"Is there no other way?" she asked Jeff who stood silent next to her.

"Once the council decides on something, it becomes final." The Bagger looked away from his fallen comrades. "It's too late for them now. There's no going back."

Half an hour later, Alby returned to the Glade. Glenn was nowhere to be seen. He eyed the two kneeling boys for a moment, listening to their pleas.

"Let's get!" Alby shouted. As if on cue, the walls began to move to a close. The Gladers pushed the hysterical boys into the Maze. Both twisted and turned, clawed on grass and planted their feet on the soft earth but to no avail.

Just as Johann stepped inside the Maze, he looked at Minho, his face wet with tears and snot. "It was him or you! Him or you! You never should've saved him!"

Slowly but surely, the gate closed with a final resonating boom. The Builders silently gathered the poles and returned them in the shed. Minho stood in front of the door for a few minutes, mulling over Johann's final, desperate warning. He turned around and saw Alex standing behind him, face blank, green eyes wide open. He had been around her long enough to know what that look meant. Fear.

"I heard what he said."

Minho nodded, putting his hands on his hips. It was unnerving, to say the least, having someone warn him of something dreadful for saving someone's life. But he had made up his mind.

"Doesn't change anything. You gave me your word. I gave you mine. Nobody's laying a finger on you, Alexandria." He smiled cockily.

"Not without going through me."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>_ Special thanks to** Olivia (**Nooo! Not my nose! Haha!**), woofwoof, K, theevilsquiddancer, msspicyjalapeno, Selena, popsmission, OnyeezU, mistystar123** for your continuous support and faith in this story. =) Really guys, it means so much for me to hear your feedbacks regarding this work. It's good to feel like I have other people with me on my rather peculiar journey with Alex and the Gladers and Thomas and Teresa and even Janson really. They've all turned into these life-like characters that at times I don't know what to do with them. And even though I let them play around and continue the story on their own pace (snail pace for Alex), I'm glad you guys like it anyways. Love you!

I feel bad for Glenn on this one...making him look all stupid and misinformed, especially since by now most of us know what it was the Creators are talking about. He was so easily manipulated by Janson, it's shocking. Same goes to Johann and Seb. Their desperation to get out of the Maze was severely used against them. Sad.


	27. Visitors

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own these characters (except Alex), the set up, and the canon world of the Maze Runner trilogy.

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><p>Even after their deaths, the three boys still visited her in her dreams. In the wee hours of morning, when all of her guards had gone down, Glenn would come to her with his index finger over his lips. Other times it was Seb sitting on her chest or Johann breaking her arms. Even half boy did a cameo once, not really doing anything but sit on his ribcage. Every visitor took so much from her that by the time she managed to wake herself up, she would feel more exhausted than before her head hit the pillow. Because of this, sleep became something that she did by mistake. It was an act she avoided with constant vigilance yet it always managed to sneak up on her in places and times she least expected it to.<p>

That night had not been any different. She woke up gasping for air and with a white-knuckled grip on the edges of a wooden table she didn't remember falling asleep on. Images of nightmare-Glenn sawing her neck off were seared at the back of her eyelids. She still had glimpses of him whenever she blinked. With shaking fingers, Alex traced the clean cut on her neck in an attempt to calm herself down. She had screamed so loudly when Glenn gave it to her that she was surprised how every boy in the Glade slept through it. It had been days and the nasty wound had healed well. Clint told her she was lucky it didn't fester despite all the muck that got in it. Alex was just glad she still had a neck.

She took a deep breath and forced her head up from the table's cool surface, looking at her surroundings as she did. The moon was full that night. It cast a surreal glow over the vast expanse of the Glade. From the stillness around her and the silence of the animals in the Bloodhouse, Alex could tell there were still hours to go before sunrise.

_Perfect._

She swung her feet over the wooden bench and stood up before slowly jogging towards the Slammer.

* * *

><p>She found him lying on the Slammer's bare dirt floor. His hands were on the back of his head. One ankle was propped on top of the other. All in all, Alex thought he didn't look like a prisoner. He looked like he owned the place. She thought Alby had gone too easy on him and that he could have done more to make him look the part, like confiscate his clothes while serving time.<p>

'Ha! You wish,' she thought mirthfully and squatted down in front of the wooden bars holding him in.

"Hey Min. You awake?"

Minho didn't move. Alex raised her eyebrow. "I got food."

Just as she predicted, the cheeky boy stirred. He took his time yawning and stretching before pushing himself up in a sitting position. Then he spent a lot of time rubbing his eyes.

"Oh my _God_, hurry up," she mumbled.

Another yawn later, he had propped himself up in front of the wooden bars as well, facing her. "Anything I can do for you m'lady?"

Alex cringed visibly, making him snicker.

"Kidding, shank. Don't leave okay? If you really have to, at least leave the food behind. I'm famished." As part of his punishment, he was only given one meal in the morning. The rest of the day, he was only allowed to have water and that was when Frypan had free time to hand it to him. With nothing much to do except wait for the days to pass, he became more in tune with the grumbling of his stomach every time the bells rang for lunch and dinner.

"You're impossible," Alex murmured, rummaging through her knapsack anyway, which she filled earlier that night with the help of Frypan and Newt. She handed him a parcel wrapped in wax paper, a ham sandwich.

Minho snatched it quickly, tearing the wrapper off before taking a huge bite from it. He let out a satisfied moan as he chewed. "That Frypan is a genius, I tell you. Here." He tore the sandwich in half and gave one piece to her.

"Thanks."

They ate in silence for a while, listening to the crickets nearby and the clicks and whirs of a Griever in the Maze somewhere.

"So...how are you?" she asked after a long pause.

"Well, I got slammed," he replied while his hands were busy rummaging through Alex's knapsack for more food. "Got it for jumping on the same slinthead Alby pushed off the shucking Cliff. A bit ironic if you ask me. I'm bored. Every time I go to sleep, some rat tries to take a bite off my butt. But other than those things, I feel peachy." He gave her a toothy grin.

Alex shook her head in disbelief. It was times like this when she wondered whether Minho was a psychopath or not. It was nearly impossible to make him feel remorse. If he felt it, he did an amazing job at keeping it to himself. Seeing him feel sorry for something he had done was as difficult as pulling teeth with two fingers. It was nearly unattainable and utterly pointless.

'But he's not, is he?' she thought to herself. She couldn't forget that unexpected glimpse of real emotion from him that day in the Homestead. It happened. She was there. She just wished she saw more it though.

"I should be asking you the same thing," he said after Alex zoned out for a couple of seconds.

The dark-haired girl blinked at him. "What was that?"

"You don't look so good." He had noticed the dark bags under her eyes but decided to keep it to himself earlier.

"I don't feel so good either," she confessed. It was surprising how easily the truth rolled out of her tongue. "Don't get me wrong. I feel fine. Actually got back to work this morning. It's...I'm..." She didn't want to tell him about the nightmares. He had done more than enough by going back in the Maze for her. She didn't want to appear too needy.

'Perhaps not needy but you sure are clingy,' a voice in her head mocked. 'You keep coming back at him when you don't really have to. Why is that?'

She didn't know exactly when it happened but she wasn't going to lie about it. With Minho, she felt okay with not being okay all the time. He had seen her in her most shucked moments that there was no use keeping up an image for him. And at that moment, minutes after seeing Glenn again and days after the most disgusting, humiliating, and terrifying day of her life, she wasn't too keen on keeping up an image. She wanted to feel okay with not being okay.

"Dude, you're spacing out again." The timbre of Minho's voice brought her out of her daze for the second time. He shook his head and gave her an unreadable look, as if he was gauging her with something.

"I'll be alright shuckface." She stuck her tongue out at him. "Just thought that since I have a hard time sleeping, might as well keep the second most miserable shank in the Glade up with me."

The Runner merely shrugged. He decided not to prod any further, afraid that the temperamental girl might walk out on him if he got her too uncomfortable.

"You're fine with this though, right? You were sleeping the whole day anyway."

"I don't mind. And besides," he added, a smug look plastered on his face, "I know you miss me already. I'm addictive like that."

"What?" She tore a crusty bit of her bread and flicked it at him. "You're a bigger airhead than Gally."

"Never said I wasn't." After ducking away from another piece of bread, he screwed his face up in a ridiculous mask, eyes crossed and lips contorted in a lop-sided grimace. She remembered him doing the same thing in the Map Room when he was cheering her up after the haircut. It seemed like ages ago.

"You should smile more often," he said. "It looks good on you." He avoided her gaze and unconsciously scratched the back of his head, feeling bashful all of a sudden. Alex, on the other hand, didn't even realize she was smiling until she felt it go wider against her face. Minho took this as a good sign and gave her a dimpled smile, eyes turning into happy little slits as he did.

'Is the shuckface really flirting with me? Because I'm totally playing along with this,' she thought evilly.

"Oh." he added. "By the way thanks for pulling me out of those shucking walls. Man, I thought you shanks would have to scrape me off of them in the morning. That was scary-stop that!" The piece of bread that Alex had thrown at him had been bigger and had hit him square on the nose. "Do I look like one of Winston's chickens to you?"

"I almost forgot about that! Why in the holy name of Alby did you do that?! _You and me together?_ Are you crazy? You could've died!"

"I didn't."

"Still!"

Minho gave her an exasperated look. "Didn't you notice? You ran a mile looking like a terrified goose with your hands behind your back in a standard Runner's time. I was observing your speed and found out you could make it. T'was just a matter of how to push you."

"And you thought blackmailing me with your life was effective?"

"It worked didn't it?" It did. And on the inside he wanted to roll down the Slammer's filthy floor with glee that it did. However, he'd rather get squashed between two Maze walls for real than admit that little fact out loud.

Alex raised her hands in surrender, letting him have the last word. She had a feeling they will be bickering 'till noon if she didn't.

"Whatever shuckface. Newt has a gift for you, straight out of his personal collection," There was an audible clink of glass and two bottles of the good stuff emerged from the bottom of the knapsack. She handed one to the incarcerated Runner and the two raised their drinks for a toast.

"To making it out of the Maze with those god-awful chicken legs," he said.

"To punching Glenn in the face many times," she added.

"Cheers," they said at the same time.

The two tipped the contents of their bottles down their throats.

"Minho?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks for going back for me in there."

"Sure. Anything for you m'lady."

"Shut-!"

"-Klunkface then."

The next day one of the Baggers found Alex by the Slammer. She was fast asleep and cuddling an empty brown bottle like it was a stuffed toy. Despite being feasted upon by a horde of mosquitoes it was the best sleep she had in days.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ In a way this quasi-filler is a complete 180 from most of the chapters I've written about Alex. Without really meaning to I've focused too much on how capable of a person she is despite her limitations. This one talked about the "other side of the coin". How she can't overcome every single thing on her own. Sometimes things can become too much for her and she's not afraid to reach out to other people for help. Good thing she has Minho for that. Aaaaw. Now kiss already! REVIEWS ARE LOVE YOU GUYS. =)

Special mention to these shanks and shankettes for reviewing. Thank you very much you guys. Hope you enjoyed this little fluffcake as well. **MDW, Olivia, Glassgift, valhallababe, popsmission, OnyeezU** (thanks for the idea shank!)**, A Shadow Rose, theevilsquiddancer,** **msspicyjalapeno, mistystar123,** and **Jeffrey Dahmer.**


	28. Whiplash

**_Disclaimer:_** I do not own anything. Just Alex and this little plot in my head that wouldn't leave me alone. Ever.

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><p><em>Alex or Minho.<em>

_One or the other._

Johann's warning wasn't lost to the duo. His haunting last words ate at them, particularly at Alex. One day, when it became too much for her, she pulled the dark-haired Runner up a newly-made pedestal on top of the Glade's largest acacia tree and decided to discuss the unsettling issue with him. How the hell do they go after those darn blueprints?

"I'm not even sure what blueprints they're talking about here," Minho admitted. He had heard the word being thrown around a dozen times by the three banished Gladers. "If it's the maps they want, how come nobody had a go at them ages ago? We've been drawing the same klunk since we arrived here anyway. It's not like those will give them anything useful."

"Maybe we're missing something," Alex replied. "Or maybe we've been looking at the wrong places for clues."

"Any ideas though?" he asked wryly. He had finished peeling the apple on his hand. He sliced it in half and gave one piece to Alex.

The Med-Jack took it and absent-mindedly turned the peeled fruit over in her palm, her mind elsewhere. "There's something else," she admitted. "Before Van died he said, no- _begged_ me to help someone go after those shucking blueprints."

Minho, who had been swinging his dangling legs in the air, went still at the unexpected revelation. He gave her an annoyed look. "You're just telling me this _now_?"

"See back then I thought it was the venom making the crazy talk. But then you told me about Glenn and Johann. And, shuck it, I remember now. So did Anton."

"Geez. Who else knows about this? Ben? The month's Greenbean?" he scoffed. Honestly, he thought if Alex told him Alby was actually a very masuline girl with an Adam's apple he would no longer be that surprised anymore.

"I don't think Anton knows anything. He was working on something at that time and just blurted it out of nowhere. Doesn't even remember saying it." Alex sinked her teeth in the apple, not knowing what to make of that fact. Even she thought she sounded ridiculous when she said it out loud. When Minho didn't say anything, she added continued.

"Anyway that's not even the point. Back to Van. He told me about a candidate."

"A candidate," the Runner parroted flatly. First there were blueprints and now they've reached this topic about a candidate. If he hadn't nearly died because of this conspiracy theory he would have dismissed the entire thing as a steaming load of klunk. "What about him? What else have you been keeping to yourself, Alexandria? No wonder you have a hard time sleeping."

"He told me to help the candidate. Said he was a good and strong one and that they just want to, I'm quoting this from him, know what makes him tick." She gave him a very pointed look. Minho quickly chewed the contents in his mouth and gulped it down.

"Wait you're not saying-"

"That's exactly what I'm saying. Glenn pointed out why. And it kinda makes sense when you think about it. You're a natural with maps."

Minho sighed and leaned against the crude wooden railing of the pedestal. Neither said anything for a long time. It was starting to get late. Alex's eyelids were getting heavy. She had rested her head on top of her knees and had closed her eyes for a few seconds when the boy beside her pulled her out of her sleepy haze.

"What happens to you when I figure it out?"

She cracked one eye open and glanced sideways at him. "What do you mean?" she asked, knowing full well where he was getting into but dreaded hearing the question anyway.

"Johann said it was you or me. _If_ I'm really your precious candidate and I find a way to figure out the shucking blueprints for once. Where does that leave you?"

"I don't know. Does one of us have to be left anywhere after that?" she chuckled, her stomach feeling unusually heavy all of a sudden. Minho mimicked her position, pulling his knees up to his chin and resting his head sideways on top of them so that he was facing her.

"We both heard what he said," he murmured softly. "Why did they want you out of the way so badly? Why do they have to choose between the two of us in the first place? We don't know shuck about the aftermath of this thing. Whatever it is, I have a gut feeling it ain't good."

"The Creators might be listening Minho," she reminded him, fatigue evident in her tone. "If what those shucks were saying was true then all that klunk had been controlled by them. They're everywhere. And dammit…I don't even want to think about what they can do to you if you don't give them what they want."

Minho gave her a small smile. "It's not me I'm worried about. We'll figure this out together, just like in the maze."

"Yeah. Okay."

"And when the time comes when our shanks are forced to choose again…" he trailed off.

"We'll cross the bridge when we get there."

"Good that. Geez, what are we even talking about?" he asked out loud, feeling miffed. For him it still felt like they were speaking in gibberish. Nothing added up. He was so preoccupied with his annoyance he didn't even pick up on the fact that Alex had lied to his face. She had crossed that bridge earlier and she had made her decision.

Whether he gets the blueprints or not Minho was going to survive.

* * *

><p>True to his word, Minho looked after her. He was always lurking around, always within sight. Ever since the banishment, the two found themselves hanging around each other without technically being with each other. More often than not they had their different cliques, him with Ben, Newt, and Alby while she stayed with Jeff, Anton and Clint. But every once in a while they would lock eyes. Minho would raise his eyebrows, silently asking her if everything was alright. She would subtly nod at him, signalling at him to relax. Neither of them was too keen on admitting it but being near one another brought both of them a relief they weren't aware they were looking for. The nightmare wasn't something they could easily put behind them.<p>

On most times, Alex adored the thought that he was going out of his way for her. She realized why, despite his brash and sometimes rude attitude, people came to look up to him. He had a certain mischievous charm in him that makes him endearing in an ironic way. And she wasn't immune to it. Still, Minho was Minho and Alex was Alex. There were still instances when all she could think about was getting her hands on that head-full of hair and pull. Hard.

They were on the semi-finals of the month's drinking contest. At that moment, Alex and Ben were going head-to-head for a chance to become champion of Team Zart. Team Gally already picked Newt for the final round. The Keeper of the Builders was giving a very animated pep talk to the rather bored-looking Runner.

"Ooh you're going down, pretty boy," Ben taunted, downing his fourth cup. Alex finished hers not ten seconds later.

"Nope. Not really." She observed the blonde Builder silently. He looked like a walking rash. His face and chest were tomato-red and his hair was plastered on his forehead with perspiration. She smiled to herself confidently. She can take him.

Behind the intoxicated boy she saw her friends cheering her on. Anton was chanting excitedly with the crowd while Jeff had his head down looking as though he was asleep. The only sign he was awake was his right hand, which was lamely waving a colourful flag with her name on it.

Ben finished his fifth glass and she followed suit almost immediately. Out of the blue, Minho, co-captain of Team Zart, slapped his hand on the table startling the contenders.

"That's it, we have a champion. We're choosing Ben for the final round!"

"Really?" the red-faced boy asked sceptically.

"That's bullklunk!" Alex roared.

Cheers erupted from both team. Gally gaped at his fellow Keeper, clearly caught off-guard by the boy's decision.

"I didn't tap out yet. Zart?!" the furious girl turned to the Track-Hoe, who was still glaring questioningly at Minho. "You're the _real_ captain. Say Something!"

Zart grabbed the smug-looking Runner by the arm. "He's right, man. A champion is supposed to be the one who outlasts the other." Then he added softly so only the two of them could hear it, "If you ask me, Ben looks like he's about to go down. And for shuck's sake they have Newt! He's gonna take that slinthead down without batting an eyelash."

Minho shrugged. "It's done." He turned to Alex who was fuming in her seat. "There has been a change of plans. I figured we'll stand more chance of winning if we choose the one who drinks the fastest. And that's Benny." He shrugged before adding, "It's not like the Champ has to stay sober for too long, as I'm sure you remembered."

Alex's head looked like it was about to explode. Her already flushed cheeks turned a striking shade of beet red. Her green eyes shone with so much rage they had "murder" written all over their irises. "Well then you should have said something _before_ we reached the fifth cup! Ever thought of that? Prick!"

Minho looked away, as if spotting something interesting by the north wall of the Maze. "Take a hike Alex. You're clearly drunk." Then so softly that only he could hear himself, he added, "Please."

She shook her head and wobbly stood up from the table. She marched away from the crowd, still shaking with anger from Minho's brashness and Zart's inability to do something about it. Shallow as it was, Alex was proud of the reputation she had built from dominating the monthly contest. She was known for being great at it. And just because some slinthead decided to change the rules in the middle of the game, she had walked out of it with nothing more than a broken record and a bruised ego.

* * *

><p>"Hey."<p>

Minho found her in the sick room as he had predicted. Her lanky back was facing him. From the sound of two ceramics repeatedly banging against one another, he could tell she was pounding on something. Alex paused and turned to look at him, her face blank.

"Let me guess," she slurred. "Ben is dead, isn't he?"

Minho shrugged. "Nah. He was still going at it a minute ago when I left."

She chuckled and went back to her work, pouring her annoyance on the powder she was working on. "Aren't you supposed to be downstairs cheering for your hand-picked champion?"

"Tummy ache," he replied flatly, closing the door behind him. Minho's stomach was notorious for getting upset over anything, even his favourite food. It could throw a massive fit when it wanted to and would release gas that was so noxious even Alby dreaded it. So when he told Zart he was having another "bad one", the Track-Hoe panicked, quickly shoved him away from the crowd and told him to have it looked at. Alex, however, didn't believe him too easily.

"What are you five?" she chuckled. "Did you come here so I could hold your hand while you fart it out? Really now, you could do better."

Minho rolled his eyes upwards. "Come on, Alex. I _am _right. You were drunk. Still are."

Alex slammed the pestle on the mortar and whipped back to look at him. "That's the point, slinthead. The game was about who could stand being drunk the longest. Gosh, you've got to be the biggest idiot in the Glade if I have to point that out to you."

"Okay now that's just insulting," the Runner shot back, his temper flaring up. "You know what I was just looking out for you, shuckface. A whole lot of good that gave me. Thanks a lot."

"Looking out for me from what? Ben's barf? Min, I was fine! Dammit, I was winning! I thought we have a thing about babying. Namely, to _not _do it."

"You call walking in a zigzag fine?" He closed the distance between them in two long strides until he was a few feet away from her. "No wonder you're always getting into trouble. If you want me to stop treating you like a baby then stop acting like one."

"Babies don't get drunk, pea brain." She scrunched up her face.

"Alexandria!" Minho exclaimed, exasperated.

"Minho! What has happened to you? You used to be the one egging me on, forcing me to chug myself sick. Now you're no fun. Pssh." She crossed her arms over her chest.

He sighed to the heavens above, almost talking himself into asking for a divine intervention and sober the bratty girl up immediately. He wasn't the most patient person in the Glade. Far from it. Alex's drunken tantrum was quickly pushing him to his last straw. Though he had no regrets on keeping his promise in looking after her, the Med-jack knew how to make it extra hard for him.

When Minho didn't say anything after a long pause, Alex yawned loudly and went back to pounding. This time she kept missing the mortar and ended up banging on the table. He took the pestle away from her. "You're going to bed."

She yanked her hand away from him. "Erm, excuse me mother? In case you didn't notice I'm kinda busy."

"It's thirty minutes before lights out. Do that tomorrow. C'mon." He grabbed her arm and dragged her towards the door. He had seen her drunk enough times to know that she had made a habit of falling asleep on the most random places when intoxicated. One time, she had curled up on top of a dining table. Another time, she had fallen asleep on a small nook between Frypan's stoves and nearly gave the Cook a heart attack the next morning when he found her there.

"Stop telling me what to do!"

Minho felt a sharp jolt of pain and howled as her foot collided with his shin.

"You can't control me, you arrogant piece of shuck!" Alex had let the alcohol and the anger get in her head and starting slapping and kicking at the dark-haired boy. "Ugh! Take! That!"

"Ow! Aw! What the hell is wrong with you?!" Minho flung her against the nearest wall and pinned her there, effectively stopping her from hitting him all over. "Keep it down."

"I hate you! You're an over-controlling shuckfaced shuck! What makes you think you have the right-"

"-Shut up!-"

"-to dictate my already shucked-up life!-"

"-I said shut up!-"

"Since you're so good at it why don't you MAKE ME!"

In the time it would take to snap one's fingers, the room became silent, so silent that a pin could be heard dropping on the floor nearby. Alex stood stock-still, her eyes wide open as a strong surge of electric current surged from the crown of her head to the tip of her toes. Minho had bent down. His own eyes were squeezed shut and his lips were pressed firmly against hers. Time stood still for the two teenagers, as though the universe itself wanted to preserve that moment, taking a cosmic picture of the scene as a memento.

When he pulled away she remained wide-eyed and frozen in place. Her mind, however, had jumpstarted at a thousand miles per minute, making her feel very sober and very aware of every single detail around her. She thanked inwardly that he had held her up against the wall. She wasn't sure if her legs could handle her own weight with the way they were shaking. For Minho, his actions took forever to sink in. He gaped at her, quickly letting go of her as if her skin burned him.

"S-sorry I-I…" he stammered. "I didn't know what came over me, I…shuck! I didn't-"

"Gosh, do it again."

In an instant, Alex tiptoed and pulled his head down for a deep kiss. He only needed two seconds to recover and soon began kissing her back with as much fervor. It was an intense and sloppy battle of tongues as the two fought for domination. His hands found her hair and tangled themselves there. Her hands trailed down the length of his back before burying themselves on both of his hips, making him moan in her mouth.

It was a new kind of rush for Minho, like whiplash that left him light-headed and disoriented and dying except it felt so,so good. If his head wasn't attached to shoulders, it would have floated up in the air. Her lips felt _that _great. Alex cheered inwardly as she entered his mouth. With closed eyes, she explored its taste and texture. Minho's tongue, which was known for being knife-sharp and dangerous, felt soft against hers. She felt it wrestling hers, demanding for its turn to take over and she let it. The walls of the shucking Maze she hated so much could crumble around them for all she cared. By then she still wouldn't want to stop. Not now. Not ever. Not when it felt _that _amazing.

Finally, when their lungs couldn't take it any longer, they broke the kiss. Minho cupped her face with his hands and rested his forehead against hers. Both were gasping heavily and could hear blood rushing in their ears.

"That was intense," Alex confessed.

Minho gave her the most genuine smile she saw him wear. "I know right?"

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em>**Finally! *throws chocolates in the air* Three words. About. Freaking. Time. Man, that took FOREVER. Good to have that out there at last. I found Alex a bit bratty in the first part so I decided..meh! Minho shut her up. Then again, if it was MY record who got broken because some idiot decided to change the rules in the middle of a contest I would have put up a huge fuss as well. So. *shrugs*

How did you guys find the SHUCK-YEAH-FINALLY!-kiss? Lemme know, yeah? Review! Special mention to the following : **OnyeezU** (aka the-blitz-reviewer-who-snatched-the-200th-reviewer-spot-under-all-of-our-noses. Thanks shank!), **shs1300, popsmission, Olivia, MinhoCaracha, theevilsquiddancer, K, Q,** and **green** **angel01**. Your thoughts are stored and pickled in a glass jar to be kept there for all eternity. Love you all!

Inspiration of this chapter: My favorite John Legend one-liner. _"What would I do without your smart mouth?"_


	29. Habit

**_Disclaimer: _**I am not James Dashner. I don't think he writes fluff.

_**Linespiration: ** __You're my downfall. You're my muse. My worst distraction. My rhythm and blues._

* * *

><p>"We can't do it again, do you understand? It's too dangerous.<p>

"I know. Believe me, I know."

"Right. I don't want to get found out. And I know there's no way you would want the entire Glade thinking you kiss boys in your past time."

"That's _your _past time."

"Oh, shut up!"

"So that's it. We're going to act like it never happened."

"Never happened."

"Yes. Okay. Good that."

"Good that."

"Just...one last time."

His mouth crashed on hers, repeating the addictive cycle all over again. It was the third time that they had tried and failed to put a stop in these makeout sessions. It was also the time Minho accidentally brushed his lips against the delicate part of her neck and discovered the wonderful art of necking.

For the two teenagers, it was a new kind of adrenaline rush. It was a welcomed one as well since it didn't involve Grievers and the possibility of dying. Minho couldn't get enough of Alex. Kissing her felt like discovering something new in a different maze every single time. In the span of a few days, he had already made a partial map of her body. If he wanted to make her giggle he could nibble at one of her earlobes. If he wanted her to fumble with his hair he would kiss the fingertips on her left hand, allowing the right hand to rake through his locks. If he wanted her to go bat crazy and take charge he would swirl his tongue on that specific spot on her neck until she would push him off and climb on top of him. And if he wanted to mimic the feeling that he had come home, wherever home had been for him, he would plant a deep kiss on her lips. Being aware of his growing feelings towards the raven-haired girl toughened his resolve further to find a way out of Glade. Somehow, some way, he will get those blueprints and lead them out to freedom. If he couldn't find it himself then he most definitely will fight tooth and nail to get the help he needed. He made that promise to himself as he stared at her kind, smiling green eyes.

At fifteen, Alex was fairly certain she had never kissed anyone else aside from Minho. Maybe it was the same for him too. She kind of wished it was. It was a selfish thought she kept under lock and key inside her head. Either way, amnesia placed them in the default setting under the category "Kissing Novices". And yet, the past three days never ceased to amaze her. Whenever they had a go at it, it felt to her as though they had been doing it for ages. The shuckface knew how to kiss her without her having to clue him in. And she was impressed at how receptive he could be every time she got him in a liplock. In those few moments during their kissing marathons when she had enough brain cells working to notice how he would desperately mould himself to her body, she could honestly say he was hers. Not the Keeper of the Runners. Not a hostage of the Creators. Just her Minho. And it felt right.

_Do you love him?_

The question crossed her mind as she watched him plant kisses on her fingertips while her other hand lazily fumbled at the tuft of hair on the nape of his neck. Truth was, she didn't know for sure. Love was a foreign and obscure concept for her. What she did know was that she would do anything to keep him safe. If it absolutely had to come down to the point when they had to choose who will live, she agreed with her attackers. It would be Minho. She knew he was worth it.

* * *

><p>When it became apparent that kissing each other proved too delicious a habit to break, they agreed that they had to follow some safety measures.<p>

No public display of affection.

No lingering glances.

No lip-biting within each other's premises in public places. This was Minho's idea. When she asked him why, he told her that if she did he had no choice but to break rule number one.

And the most absolute rule of all, only commence a make out session in a secluded spot in the Glade. This roughly equated to Alby's favorite rule: Never step out of the Maze unless you're a Runner.

That day, they chose the tool shed. A couple of minutes ago, Minho managed to park his butt on top of a large tool box with Alex's legs wrapped around his waist. It was a challenge he was proud he overcame. Now that their hormonal selves have had enough lip-smacking and spit, logic seeped back in their muddled brain. Alex was still straddling him when she noticed something on his neck right above his collarbone.

"Hmm. What's that?"

"What's what?"

Upon closer inspection, she realized it was a small bruise. It was dark red and stood in stark contrast against his golden skin. Surrounding it were bite marks, which resembled the edges of her incisors.

"Uh-oh. I think I wounded you shank."

"Oh come on. What happened to that subtlety rule you were so bent on following?" He rubbed the bruise with the pads of his fingers, wincing when he realized it hurt quite a bit.

Alex narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh don't give me that look. You loved it when I was giving you that. Don't lie to me." After a long pause, she added, "Maybe you should crash your face on a wall again. That would camouflage the whole thing."

He chuckled. "Nice try."

They were about to go in for another round when the front door rattled violently, signalling that someone was nearby.

Minho literally threw Alex off of his lap. The Med-jack landed on the floor with a small thud before scrambling behind a row of spare wooden planks.

Anton popped in and let out a surprised yelp when he saw Minho splayed on top of their box. "Geez shank! You scared me!" he exclaimed. "Are you okay? You look a bit messed up."

In truth, the Runner looked totally ravished. His eyes had an unusual glint in them. His mouth was red and swollen. And most of the top buttons of his shirt were either missing or had come undone.

Minho cleared his throat. "Oh I was cooling down. Just finished a tricky run this morning."

Anton raised one eyebrow questioningly and looked around the stuffy shack. "And you chose to cool down in the shucking tool shed?" He pushed him off the wooden lid and rummaged in the large container for more tools. The other boy fumbled with his buttons as his mind raced to come up with a plausible excuse.

"You got a better idea?" he shot back, trying to sound annoyed.

"Try the Homestead. Or the open field. Maybe even the Deadheads. Anywhere is better than here."

Minho nodded. "Thanks for the tip shank."

He was about to head for the door when Anton grabbed his arm.

"Wait a minute. What's that on your neck? Looks nasty."

Minho's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. He swatted the Bricknick's hand away before hiding the bruise with the collar of his shirt.

"Yeah don't touch it. I think it's a mosquito bite."

"Oh," Anton replied. "That must have been a really huge mosquito. Are those teeth marks?"

"It's a _mosquito_ bite, klunkbrain." He glared at the curly-haired boy.

Behind the planks, Alex was struggling to keep herself from laughing out loud.

"I should ask it to visit you someday," Minho added. "Maybe give you a big love bite right in the eyelid. How's that?"

Anton laughed. "Come on crazy. I heard Newt was looking for you."

That night at dinner, Minho and Alex couldn't look at each other's general direction without bursting into terrible cases of chuckles. When Newt asked what it was they did that was so funny, they laughed even harder.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_Thank you so much for everybody who reviewed, followed and favorited this story. I am absolutely over the moon at the thought of how well-received The Variable has been considering this is the first ever fic that survived my annual notebook-burning ceremony and the first one that actually made it here in FF. Really, you guys are awesome. Thank you! I can't say it enough times, THANK YOU.

This one's a bit of a fluff-fest if you ask me. Oh well, those two deserve a bit of downtime fluff after everything they have been through.

And then there's the music bit. Yeah I have no "theme song" for the two. I'm too busy with the scenes in my head so most times the song lines come later. The John Legend bit just seems like a fitting reference for their relationsip and it's so beautiful that I had to put it there. On top. Yeah.

"Tadhana" by Up Dharma Down is also a good fit for...the whole story in general? Haha! It has been my favorite song for years. I noticed the similarities of the song's story and this story a few minutes after I had "Whiplash" drafted. It's Tagalog so I guess it's a good thing. Not many people would understand it so YEHEY my ending's safe. I should stop before I write chapter's-worth of notes. Love you!


	30. Jealousy

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own the series. Bow.

* * *

><p>With all honesty, Minho can easily say with great confidence that he wasn't a jealous person, or an envious one for that matter. Unlike Gally who would sulk when another Keeper apart from him was being praised for a job well done, or Zart who frequently complained that he wasn't getting a fair share of anything, Minho was okay with what he had. And he was more than happy to share what little he owned with the other Gladers. The unpleasant pang of jealousy was so foreign to him that when it came to bitch slap him across the face one day, he had no idea what it was and why he felt it.<p>

It started one early morning when he spotted Alex with Jeff in the breakfast queue. He thought Jeff was being a baby because something got in his eye. Alex, who stood behind him in the line, got him to bend down so she could try to blow that something out of him.

Seeing them like that, with Alex's lips inches away from Jeff's face stirred his guts uncomfortably. He realized he wasn't hungry anymore and he felt annoyed at the female Med-jack for some reason, even though he knew she was only trying to help. He didn't notice Ben standing on his left until the boy nudged him at the ribs.

"Yo, watch this," the blonde Builder said, wriggling his eyebrows. He walked over to where Jeff and Alex stood.

'What is he doing?' Minho thought. To his horror, Ben gave the back of Alex's head a sharp push, smashing her face towards Jeff's. The Med-jack had been quick. She managed to shift the palm of her hand between her and the other boy so she ended up kissing it instead of Jeff himself. The whole queue and the Cooks serving the meals erupted in laughter at Ben's antics. He continued to laugh even as Alex repeatedly and literally kicked him on the butt.

The almond-eyed Runner felt as though someone had poured hot wax over his head. He crossed his arms over his chest and had a poker face plastered in place as Ben made his way back to his friend and raised his hand for a high five. Minho merely glared at him and walked away.

"You're a disgusting shuck," he spat.

* * *

><p>The second bitch slap came one late afternoon a few days later. Minho was looking for Alex. He hadn't seen her since before he entered the Map Room after the day's run. Plus he had just found a sweet, secluded spot in the Deadheads he was sure she was going to like. He came to a stop when he spotted her with Newt under one of the bigger trees. They were both on their feet and talking silently between themselves.<p>

He wondered briefly what it was they had to talk about that prompted her to see the blonde Runner before seeing him. He took a couple of steps forward to eavesdrop. Minho didn't know why but warning bells went off inside his head. He felt antsy and he wanted to put a hand on Newt's shucky face and push him away or do something similar to that. By the time he stood a few yards away from them, Alex must have said something funny because Newt burst out laughing. The blonde them proceeded to get the smaller Glader in a headlock and rubbed his knuckles on her hair.

"Nooooot! Cut it out!" she screamed. Newt let her go, deftly blocking her now flapping arms.

"You stupid piece of klunky shuck!"

"Wow, you could actually give Minho a run for his money now if he had some. Ah, speaking of the devil." Newt nodded at the dark-haired boy who stood in front of them, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Min," Alex greeted, smoothing down her messy hair in a last ditch effort to look presentable. "We were just talking about you."

"Yeah?"

"Apparently, you're a huge and bad influence to my vocabulary." When Alex thought Newt wasn't looking, she stole a side kick aimed at his butt which the boy swerved away from with lazy grace.

"Dang it!" she exclaimed.

The Runner rolled his eyes at her and turned to Minho. "Something wrong shank?"

"Yes," was his short and clipped reply. It came out of his mouth before he could think of a more suitable answer. "You two looked adorable by the way," he added. His mouth was stretched in a huge grin but his eyes held none of its mirth.

"But you said something's off. What is it?"

"I forgot."

Newt and Alex exchanged confused looks. They didn't understand what Minho was trying to convey with his vague answers and random side comments.

"Alright, is there or isn't there something wrong?" Alex placed her hands on her hips, a habit she picked up from the boy in front of her. "Spit it out."

The gears in his head lurched to a start, formulating a bogus excuse on the spot. "None of your business I'm afraid. It's classified Runner stuff." He turned to Newt. "I'll get back at you when I remember what it is. In the meantime do continue tickling each other."

"Okay..." the other boy replied, not quite sure what to say about that.

"We weren't-" Alex started but Minho already turned his back and had walked away from her.

* * *

><p>The third time he felt the uneasy pang, he thought he must have done something weird again. The Greenbean had trembled like a leaf before running away in tears. This prompted Alex to drag him in the sick room for a closed-door conference.<p>

"Alright. Tell me. What is it?" The smaller Glader asked him. When Minho crossed his arms defensively, she immediately knew it was "The Thing" she was seeing yet again.

"You're the one who dragged me in here. What are you talking about?"

"You're doing _it_ again."

"What _it_?" he asked, annoyed.

"The thing where you look like you're about to say something and then change your mind about talking to me altogether for hours. Then you act like nothing happened and _then_ you stop talking to me. Again." The words poured out of her mouth sounding angry and pressured.

Minho remained silent. His full lower lip jutted out in a pout.

'He's really pouting,' Alex thought in disbelief.

"Can you please say something? Now?"

Like a petulant little boy he rolled his eyes at her and turned to look out the window, arms still crossed over his chest.

"You've got to be kidding me! Minho?!"

"Idon'tlikeyoutalkingtootherboys!"

The sole female Glader gaped at him. They were in the shucking Glade for Alby's sake. That meant he was practically against her talking to anybody else but him. The mere thought gave her a headache. She would certainly pop an artery within a week if that were the case.

"It's not like I like not liking it. Obviously, those shanks are my friends too. And...shuck I don't _know_. It sucks. I don't like it!"

"I heard you the first time. Why?"

"Because!" _I don't want you looking at them the way you look at me!_

Minho literally bit his tongue after uttering the first word. "Stop asking stupid questions shuckface-and what are you grinning at?"

Alex cocked her head to one side, the goofy grin refusing to disappear from her face. "You."

The older boy raised an eyebrow and gave the hardest glare he could muster.

"Oh my Minho," she breathed out in a singsong voice. She closed the gap between them with a few steps and placed her thumbs in the belt loops by his hips. On instinct, he put his hands over the smallest part of her waist, mimicking the gesture.

"I didn't peg you for the jealous type."

"I'm not," he replied, smiling to himself. He was starting to feel ridiculous over how he had been acting during the past few days. Not that he would admit that out loud.

"I can tell. You don't know the first thing about hiding it."

She tugged at his shirt to make the taller boy look down at her, meeting her gaze.

"Hey. Don't give me that rubbish now. You know you're being stupid. You don't have to feel that way."

Minho stuck his tongue out at her. "Maybe I won't feel that way to if you stop blowing everyone's eyeballs." Then he added as an afterthought, "Or getting scalp rubs from Newt."

Alex knew it was impossible to have a decent conversation with Minho when he was being like this. He wouldn't back down and would always want to get the last word. Exasperated, she shut him up the best way she knew how, using the best life hack that ever existed in the Glade.

She kissed him stupid.

_There. That did it,_ she thought triumphantly.

When they broke the kiss, Minho perched his chin on top of her head while she listened to the steady rhythm of his heart.

"I should totally do this jealous act more often."

She slapped him in the arm. "You're such a butthole!" she laughed.

Still, she would never deny it. There was something endearing about Minho's possessiveness. It gave her the one thing that she had a hard time finding in the four-walled trap they were currently in. As he shifted himself and held her in a bear hug, she felt it bathe her, making her feel at ease. Minho's presence, no matter how he acted, made her feel safe. Considering the reality that they had to live with, she knew better than to take this precious gift for granted.

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Special mention to Guest **Sue**. You, my friend, are on the right track. Do keep on reviewing! Not just in this story but as much as possible in every story you read. The reason why revs are so popular among authors is because it's more personal that way. I'm not saying following/favoriting isn't good enough (IT IS! YAY!) it's just that reviews give us a glimpse of HOW readers are receiving our works...what do they like about it? what can we improve? are we going too fast? slow? ARE YOU A SHUCKFACED CRANK WRITER AND YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT IT TILL NOW? something like that...

**Topic for Today:** Alex's appearance. I get asked about this on a regular basis. Especially the hair. And since it's expected of me, I pull out the usual generic descriptions out of my butt and try to sound smart while doing it. What you don't know is that every after I hit the send button I do a face palm and feel like the worst mom ever. Some authors are so precise with how they want their OCs to look I envy them at times. They got good descriptive skills. Let's see...

Hair pre haircut looks like Severus Snape's that got attacked with a pair of haunted scissors. I'm not helping am I?

POST HAIRCUT. That was a bit of a dilemma as well...at first I was going for Horikiti Maki's hair a few years back. But then I thought 'Clint can't be THAT good'. No way. He tends to hammered fingers not salon-treated hair. I saw this one particular girl back in Davao once who nailed the hair I wanted perfectly. Simple but elegant. Like your regular tapered hair that grew out. And since I can't draw it for you I'm going to give you an example. It's so funny because the haircut was in one of my fave youtube vids the whole time. Armi Millare's hair...the short one that looked outgrown in a way. Tie the fringe up. Perfect.

To all of you guys reading this fic... HAVE A WONDERFUL CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR Y'ALL! Hope you like my gift to you. To the followers, favoriters, reviewers! =) Love you.


	31. Worth the Fight

_**Disclaimer: **_The usual.

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><p>They first noticed it when they overheard him snapping at Winston. The Keeper of the Slicers had been happily chatting to the other boys on his table about what his plans were once they got out of the Maze. Newt, who had looked grouchy since he woke up, had asked him repeatedly to keep it down, once asking him to keep his plans to himself. When Winston wouldn't stop talking, he slammed his mug down the wooden table.<p>

"Will you shut up, shank? We won't be getting out of this blasted Maze any time soon! So quit blabbering start tending those bloody pigs properly! You'll get more work done that way." Not waiting for a response, the blonde stood up and stalked across the field before disappearing into the Map Room.

"Somebody's cranky," Alex mumbled. Jeff and Anton shrugged at each other.

"He gets that way sometimes," Jeff replied. The female Glader had only seen it for the first time that day. It was a very different version of the calm and sensible boy that he usually was. She didn't like it.

"Oh but he usually comes around after a few hours."

Newt's gloomy mood persisted for days. He would wake up later than most Gladers, quickly preparing for another day's run in just a few minutes before disappearing in the south gate with Frankie. After sketching his sector of the Maze he would stalk out of the Map Room asking for a bathroom break. Then he would march into the Homestead, hop into bed and fall asleep. He repeated this lifeless ritual the next day and the day after that until Minho took notice and began to do something about it.

"No, you're not going anywhere until this meeting is over shuckface," Minho replied when Newt asked to go to the "loo".

The blonde felt irked at their Keeper's refusal. "Come on now shank. It's only for a minute," he reasoned tiredly.

"Yeah I know. But I heard pissing makes you sleepy nowadays. I don't want you dozing off just yet so..." Minho nodded on an empty wooden chair. "Sit down."

Newt chuckled dryly. "You're being ridiculous."

"Try walking out of that door before I say so and I'll show you what's ridiculous."

"Is that a threat, Minho?"

The low chatter around them died down into a deafening silence. While everyone was used to hearing Minho and Alby bantering with each other, he rarely argued with Newt. Worse, they can tell that the two boys weren't just getting smart with each other. The tension between the two was palpable, making everyone around them feel uneasy.

The dark-haired boy scoffed at blonde Runner. "Not even close." Minho tended to hit first and make threats later. Of course Newt was an exception. He held more respect for his best shank than the other boys, even Alby. "Look, as much I enjoy chatting with you and shuck, we got a job to do. Quit being lazy and get on with it."

"What for?!" Newt all but shouted, throwing his arms in the air. "There's no way out, Minho! You _know_ that."

"No, I don't."

"Don't lie to me!"

By then Frankie and two other Runners stood up from their seats, ready to step in the second things escalated into a fist fight.

"We've been looking for ages shank! You've looked everywhere and there's nothing there. Never was. It's been an year. What's the point of doing all this every shucking day when all we will ever get are dead-ends right in front of our faces?"

Minho made a move to follow Newt when he stalked out of the room but Frankie quickly grabbed their Keeper by the arm.

"It will be better if you let him go for now. I don't think anybody can force him to join us tonight."

* * *

><p>That night Minho was with Alex in their usual spot in the Deadheads. He carefully picked this place from a dozen others for its secluded location and the fact that it was as far away from the graveyard as possible. He was seated on the thick scratchy blanket they had brought with them, his back against the Maze's concrete wall. Alex was lying down beside him, counting the stars above them. She managed to reach to one hundred before she noticed that the usually chatty boy was silent.<p>

"What is it?" she asked, noting the small gray frown he wore. It was as gray as the rest of him against the pale moonlight.

"Newt's been acting really strange these past couple of days," was Minho's quick reply, blurting out his thoughts before he could think of filtering them. "It's a bad way kind of strange." He told her of all the changes he had noticed on the usually cheerful Glader, from escaping their daily discussions to practically declaring all of the work they had done as a useless waste of time. The truth was, it wouldn't have bothered him as much if it had been a different boy. But it was Newt. He knew the shank, knew that on any other given day he would never do and say such things.

"He also snapped at Winston a few days back so it's not just you." Alex reached up to play with the tuft of soft hair on his temple. The Runner instinctively leaned against her touch. "Talk to him about it."

The Runner looked at her for a few seconds before snorting out a chuckle. "Me? Alex, geez. It's flattering to know that you have so much faith in me." The younger Med-jack giggled at this. "Really, it is. But I don't think I'm the right person for _anyone_ to talk about feelings with."

"Ideally, you're not. But come on. Out of all of us, you're the one who knows him best, I think. But if you don't want to,there's always Alby and Gally and Winston..."

Minho raised his eyebrow at her choice of Gladers.

"Ben?"

"Ben? You want that klunkhead to deal with Newt's feelings?"

Alex shrugged. "Hey, what do I know. I'm just a shuck-faced Med-jack." After a long pause, she added. "But seriously Min. If it's bad enough to make him act that way then perhaps you need to get it out of him."

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><p>Minho wasn't sure with what Alex had meant when she told him to talk to him about it. What was <em>it<em>? Was _it _his slinthead behavior during the Runners' meeting or was _it _his generally slinthead behavior over everything? What will he say to him? The outspoken Runner was hopeless at dealing with other people's feelings, mainly since he had always been so transparent with his. There was no need to delve deeper to figure out anything when it came to his mood. Everything he felt was constantly on the display for everyone to see.

He was still mulling over his thoughts when he spotted Newt propped on a rock by the Gardens. A frown was plastered on his face as his hands fumbled with the straps of his Runner gear, a small backpack strapped across their chests which they wore when doing their daily runs. He marched towards him before he could change his mind, going over what he ought to say to the other boy.

'I don't think questioning the purpose of what Runners do in a room full of tired Runners is helpful, Newt. Not one bit. It kills morale, man.'

'Shuck you! I'm the Keeper of the Runners, how dare you!'

'Whatever it is you're going through, I'm here for you. Good that?'

Even thought he wasn't looking at him, Newt had felt him coming. He tossed his gear in front of him and glanced sideways to the well-tended turf of the Track-Hoes.

Minho paused when he was a few feet away from him as his mind attempted to choose the best words possible to get through Newt.

"I'm here...right now...for you?"

Newt gave him an incredulous look. "What the bloody hell was that?"

The dark-haired boy rolled his eyes upwards. _Oh shuck it_.

"You better start telling me right now why you've been acting like a suck-fest these past few days or I'll scower the place for all the good stuff I can find and dump it down your shuck throat to give you a jumpstart."

_There. That came out perfectly._

Newt chuckled at his friend's antics. He liked how Minho had enough guts to blurt out things exactly how he thought of them. He didn't know the first thing about sugarcoating words.

"I mean it shank." The raven-haired boy plopped himself down on Newt's left side. "Start talking."

The blonde boy sighed, unsure on where to start. "I want to get out of this place so badly, man. Sometimes it's all I could think about."

"We all do."

"I know. It's just that whenever I feel like we're onto something it gets snatched away from us just as quickly. Perhaps it had been a dead end all along. Either way we go back with having nothing, no leads, no ideas, no way out." When he turned to look at Minho, the latter could see the anguish in the Runner's eyes for the first time. 'How long have you carried this klunk around?' he wondered.

"I can handle tough blows like that twice or thrice but all the shucking time? No wonder some of us are going jacked. We're hopeless."

His Keeper didn't say anything for a long time, just gazed at the Gladers gathering in the dining area, listening to their mindless chatter from afar.

"Hey, d'you remember the first thing you did when you woke up in this place?"

Newt raised an eyebrow. "Cry. Run around he place. Act like an over-sized baby." He smiled wryly at the memory. "Like what you did."

"And Alby," Minho defended himself. "And Gally. And Zart." He pointed at Clint and Alby talking to each other. "Remember what we thought about Clint during our first week in here?"

"We thought he was mute. Didn't say a word for days." It was one of the first real conversation Newt had with anyone in the Glade. Minho had poked him on the shoulder out of the blue and began gossiping.

The dark-haired boy scratched his nose and pointed at a group of Track-Hoes a few tables away. "Remember Stan?"

He spotted the slender boy talking animatedly with his friends, his boisterous laughter carried by the wind towards their direction.

"Caught some bug before Alby had a chance to sort us into our jobs. Everybody thought he was a goner." Newt did remember that one as well. With the sun beating down on them during the day and with no roof over their heads at night, Stan's simple flu went from bad to worse. "And then Clint stepped in and figured out what the business was with the healing kit."

It was also the day the Keeper of the Med-jacks first spoke. His first words were a request for one of the boys to prop the sick Glader up and force him to drink water.

"Almost choked on my lunch when I heard him that time," Minho reminisced. He nudged Newt on the side and pointed at a group made up of newer Gladers. Anton and Jeff were talking to each other while Alex stood behind Anton, tying twine on tiny sections of the boys curls.

"The three stooges," he continued. "Many of us thought these three would end up as Sloppers. I did. Eventually each of them proved us wrong." Anton turned out to have a natural talent for fixing things and became a Bricknick. Jeff, despite being short and being teased constantly for looking like an eight-year old, was much tougher than he looked, convincing Leo to take him under his wing as a Bagger. What Alex lacked in physical strength she made up for with her unusually strong stomach. Coupled with her talent for staying calm in the face of gore and Clint had found himself his first protege.

"I'm not the best person to provide counsel here and shuck but what I'm trying to say is, just when we thought we've showed this place all we can give we find out we could do more. Maybe not immediately but one way or another, we step up our game. We're not hopeless Newt. We're doing better than you think. It's a good thing we are because all these kids have come so far from where they started all weak and pathetic inside the Box. It could only mean they're worth the fight. It's the reason I chose to do what I do in that death trap. Does that make sense to you?"

Newt was silent for a long time. "Good that."

* * *

><p>The next evening, Newt felt a bit lost on who he would sit with during dinner. After his little rant he still felt awkward sitting with the Runners. Alby was sharing a table with Gally, Leo and the new Greenie, a rather muscular boy who stood at least seven feet tall. The two Keepers were arguing on who got to recruit him and Alby was trying to pacify the escalating squabble. He spotted Anton on their usual table all by himself.<p>

"Where are the other two blokes? Mind if I sit here?" he asked.

Anton shrugged. "Go ahead, shank."

"Newt!" Jeff called out from behind him. "Nice of you to join us for dinner. Finally." He set down his tray beside the blonde boy. Alex popped down the on seat in front of him.

"Since he's sitting with us does that mean we're big guns now?" she asked, winking at Newt.

"Maybe," Anton replied. "Though I'm a bit doubtful with you around."

"What's that supposed to mean, man? Shut up."

"Alex you're making it glaringly obvious that we want to be in the in-crowd," Jeff said.

"Not really. In-crowd shanks either run the bugging Maze or look after slintheads like you. I just want to take naps in the sick room when no one's looking."

Newt sat there silently, listening to the three's playful banter. It dawned on him that he had been the one to greet each boy in the trio inside the Box. Each one of them had looked on the verge of a breakdown then. Now they barely showed any trace of the turmoil the Maze had put them through.

For them to come out this normal despite everything had him coming to a conclusion.

Dead-ends or no dead-ends in his near future, he wanted to continue looking for a way out. It was worth the fight.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ This story has been receiving quite a number of follows and favorites these past few days (I know because every time I check my email FF is flooding the inbox)and I'm stoked! It never gets old for me, seriously. Do keep on reading you guys. I, as usual will cook this up as best as I can. Because you guys are awesome.

So what's the deal with this story? I wanted to explore other issues outside of the Minho/Alex thing. All those things Minho counted off were included in the list of things I wanted to write about. Unfortunately, almost all of them had little to no backstory to go with. My best bet is the thing with Newt. Again, I don't want to give away any spoilers but for those who had read the book, you know what I'm talking about. And I don't think when he decided to do what he did he just woke up and thought 'Aha! I'm gonna give that one a try.' All those feelings must have festered in him for some time for them to push him to his breaking point right? Anyway...

For those who are wondering, yes I know how this story is going to end. Even before Alex became a Medjack and before Minho found out she was a girl. Before most things, really. So don't worry about it, good that? Just read and enjoy.


	32. Fear

_**Disclaimer:**_ Same.

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><p>Builders cannot resist bringing hammers down their fingers.<p>

It was one of the smartest conclusions Alex had ever cooked up. Ever since she became a Med-jack, at least three of those guys turn up in the sick room every month with a busted finger. Some of them temporarily lose it from the sudden jolt of pain and even take the causative hammer with them on their way to see her.

That day it was Gally who turned up. Much to Alex's amusement he brought the prime suspect with him as well: a metal-handled hammer.

She tended his bruised thumb, gave him a few instructions on how to tend his wound and occasionally poked fun at his ego, which was also bruised by the incident. Their light-hearted conversation managed to swerve towards darker topics and they ended up talking about fears.

"I'm terrified of heights."

Alex turned to look at him from where he sat on the corner and raised an eyebrow at him. "Get out. You can't be scared of heights. I see you balancing yourself on all those scaffolding every shucking day."

"And every shucking day I'm scared." He frowned at his left hand and wiggled his swollen thumb. "This is going to make those stupid nails a pain to work with."

Alex walked over to him and pressed an icebag over it.

"Why d'you keep doing it then?"

Gally paused. No one had asked him about that before. He had noticed early on that most people didn't want anything to do with him and he was okay with that. Having someone ask something about him was something new and rather pleasant. He shrugged and smiled, feeling a surge of confidence in him.

"'Cause it's part of my job and my job is what I live for. Something like that. Besides, I don't want to live forever avoiding the things that scare me. That would be pathetic don't you think?"

"Hmm. Maybe," Alex replied, feeling hopelessly pathetic herself.

The Builder's words echoed in her head as she watched his retreating form and even as she laid in her hammock that night. Arrogant as they said he was, Alex couldn't bring herself to question Gally's dedication to his work. She supposed it was one of the things that kept him going and he cared about it enough to face his fears for it. She envied him for that. Ever since she woke up in that Box her life had been governed by fear. Fear of being found out. Fear of looking vulnerable. Fear of giving too much shuck about anything or anyone. Try as she might, she couldn't muster the kind of bravery the Keeper of the Builders possessed and because of that she respected him.

'Maybe someday,' she thought. 'I'll be as brave as you are, Gally.'

In the meantime, she would focus on picking herself up from where Glenn had shoved her down.

* * *

><p>Underneath the glare of the late morning sun, the slab of glass lying on the ground almost looked beautiful. Alex continued to stare at it in fascination, as though she was seeing it for the first time. And in a way, she was. It was the first time she had gone back to visit her old friend since it happened. Though she and Minho often sneaked into the Deadheads, he always made it a point to enter from the left side, well away from the tombstones and smell of decay.<p>

Now, even as her insides shivered uncomfortably at the memory, she stayed rooted on the ground.

"I was starting to think you got kidnapped again."

Alex jumped and quickly turned to look behind her. Jeff walked into the clearing and stopped beside her, carrying with him a study-looking wooden stick.

"They should have realized by now I'm not worth it," she laughed before turning back at the grave in front of them. "What are you doing here anyway?"

Jeff poked the surface with his stick, moving dead leaves aside to reveal the skeleton beneath the glass. "Bagger rounds. Make sure nobody's in trouble and all. That's him?"

"Mmm-hmm."

There was a long pause as the two pals stared at the rotting boy in his tomb.

"Why are you torturing yourself with this?" Jeff's obsidian eyes locked on to hers. "I know about the nightmares."

During the past month, her nightmares had minimized considerably. Still, that wasn't to say she had gotten rid of them all. There were the occasional instances when she still woke up paralyzed with fear after spending minutes underneath the graveyard her mind had recreated.

"I don't know. Testing Gally's wisdom, I guess." The dark-skinned boy gave her a surprised sideway glance. She continued, "I came in this place with a long list of fears, Jeff. I don't want "graveyard" and "temperamental Maze" added in it. Well, temperamental Maze was there to stay. There was no crossing that out. And though "graveyard" seemed a reasonable entry in that list, she wanted to at least make peace with it and move on, not shiver helplessly when she so much as glanced at its general direction. She thought in passing that perhaps that was why Minho had kept a close eye on her to the point of being smothering at times. He had an idea of just how deep the damage ran in her psyche that he wouldn't take her word for it no matter how many times she insisted that she was fine.

"And you think looking at half boy square in the eye sockets would help your case."

Alex laughed at this. "Something like that."

Jeff patted her on the head. "You don't have to get over it immediately, you know. Nobody's expecting you to. We're all just glad you didn't go insane when you had every reason to do so."

She looked over at the Bagger, the one whom she considered one of her best friends, and couldn't stop the goofy grin from spreading on her face. Jeff rolled his eyes at her.

"For a sentimental pansy I think you're doing fine. Don't let anybody's bravado let you think otherwise. Good that?"

"Yes, Mama Goose."

She let out a high-pitched squeak when Jeff playfully pushed her towards the glass case.

"C'mon, help me look for Anton. I cooked up this new tincture with Clint and I wanna try it on the curly-haired guinea pig."

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><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ Don't these kids sound too old for their age? It was one of the questions I kept asking myself whenever I re-read each chapter, which is also a half-assed attempt at beta-reading my own work. I'm afraid I couldn't "capture youth" the way I want to. I mean, I haven't been fifteen in nine years now ( do the math) what do I know, really? But then I thought, hey, if it were me placed inside a trap when I was fifteen, won't I mature overnight as well? The answer is a "mostly likely yes". Haha! Oh well, no story is perfect.

Oh and as you've noticed it's taking me more and more time to update new chapters. Well, real life has been quite hectic these days (so much work to be done, laundry to do, loved ones to spend skype time with..all that jazz). Also, I've just gotten enough nerves to start exploring the city by myself. And I love it. I ditched writing time to watch the London New Year firework display yesterday... BEST DECISION EVER I'm not gonna lie about that! Hahaha! Don't worry though, I'm not ditching you guys forever. =)

Special thanks to the ff shanks and shankettes for taking time to leave ossum ossum reviews: ** q, Kirigaya Miyuki, Tanya Takaishi, hungry, ajahane, Cuki, theevilsquiddancer, msspicyjalapeno, OnyeezU, Glassgift, and QuinnDeRavensborough. **You guys are ze best! For those who followed and favorited The Variable Thank you as well! See you soon. Love you!


	33. Preferences

_**Disclaimer: **_I do not own TMR. I'm not James Dashner...or his long lost twin...or even his distant cousin.

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><p>"Where's Alex?"<p>

Jeff looked up from the crossword puzzle he was working on and shrugged. "Last time I saw him he was by the Gardens talking to Minho."

Anton cocked his head to one side in wonder as he sat down next to his best friend. "The two have been hanging out with each other quite a lot lately don't you think?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Are they together or something?"

"Most likely," Jeff replied half-mindedly, his tongue sticking out as he spelled the word "troubadour" in the boxes.

Anton rolled his eyes impatiently. "Together, together. Like a couple."

This effectively caught Jeff's attention. The tip of his pen hovered a few centimeters away from the page he was working on. It stayed there for a few seconds before Jeff burst out laughing.

"You're crazy, shank! That's ridiculous."

"Doesn't it bother you?" Anton countered. "During the day you don't need to have the Glade memorized to find out where Alex is. He is either in the sick room or in the Gardens or anywhere else that's obvious. But when the Runners return back from the Maze," the Bricknick lowered his voice at this, "he disappears for hours. So does Minho. When he pops back, he does so _with_ Minho tailing him. It's a bit dodgy is all."

It took the fourteen-year old Bagger a good amount of time to process what his older friend was trying to say. With no memories outside the Glade, his knowledge on human relationships were severely restricted to platonic ones. There was paternalism, camaraderie and friendship. Romance was never something that was brought up in his new life. Though he had a moderate grasp on its concept, it was never really practiced by the people he lived with at the moment.

Until that suggestion was brought up by Anton.

As if on cue, Alex stumbled out of the west side of the Deadheads. She looked around for a couple of seconds before making her way towards the open field. Jeff thought she looked weak-kneed. Halfway through the trek, she tripped over her self and took a head dive on to the ground. Before he could even blink, the Med-jack picked herself up and looked around again to see if anybody caught her in the act. She locked eyes with Jeff, prompting her to smile bashfully at him before hurrying towards their table.

"Hi guys how y'all doing?" she greeted, the words spilling out of her mouth at rapid speed.

Jeff and Anton exchanged looks. The latter nodded smugly.

"We're okay," Anton replied. "What were you doing in the Deadheads?" He hid his suspicions well behind his nonchalant tone.

Alex pretended to clean her nails as her brain racked up for an excuse. "I was um... collecting compost for the medi-plants."

"Who were you with?" Jeff seconded. He suddenly felt curious about the Minho-Alex theory. He hated to admit it even to himself but the idea made him feel giddy.

Alex gave him an exaggerated frown. "Nobody. Why?"

Anton and Jeff's glances shifted from her to a spot behind her. She turned around to see what it was. The Keeper of the Runners appeared from the shadows of the Deadheads and was walking towards them looking every bit like the smug bastard that he was. Both of his hands where shoved inside the pockets of his cargo pants. A few buttons of his shirt were undone. However, the most unusual thing about him was the look on his face. A cheshire-cat grin replaced his usual sullen frown, which for some reason, she thought looked twice as devious when paired with his mop of messy hair.

'Seriously,' Alex thought. 'My God he's hot.'

Then, as an afterthought she added, 'And we are so busted.'

As he neared their table, he winked at the female Glader and took the seat next to her. Anton and Jeff stared at the duo looking very still and very uncomfortable.

"What?" Minho asked. "Is there something on my face?"

"Nothing!" Jeff piped out and pretended to stare holes at his crossword book.

"Erm..." Anton trailed off and began twiddling his thumbs.

Green eyes narrowed at them. "I think they want to know what you were doing in the Deadheads...as well."

"As well," Minho parroted. He watched the way Alex was repeatedly running a hand through her hair and noticed the nervous glint in her eyes.

'Oh they must have noticed,' he thought. 'Shuck me dead.'

"I wanted to see if I could climb up the wall of the Maze from there." He tried to say the words with as much conviction as he could muster. Inside though, he wanted to kick himself in the head for sounding so stupid. Everybody knew climbing up the walls was a useless thing to do. And if he remembered things correctly, he was the one who created that theory in the first place.

Much to his surprise and utter confusion, both boys seemed to take his word. They nodded quickly and fell silent yet again.

"Are you guys a couple?" Jeff blurted out. He couldn't take it any longer. He _had_ to know. "I just want to know because I'm never going to get it out of my head until you shuckfaces tell me personally that I'm just thinking too much and going crazy because of it and I know it's none of my business but still just tell me yes or no!" He took a deep breath and looked at the two expectantly. It was the longest five seconds of his life.

Anton sat taut in his seat, ready to make a run for it in case the two hotheads lose it right then and there. Yet, a part of him wanted to stay if only to confirm the truth from the two. He thought they _did_ look sweet sometimes, which was something he expected from the effeminate Med-jack but not from the tough-as-nails Runner.

Alex and Minho slowly turned to look at each other. Their faces were void masks. After a long pause, Alex's right eyebrow twitched upwards. Minho grinned manically and both turned back to look at the nosy duo across the table.

"Well, if you really wanna know," Alex made an exaggerated gesture of putting her left arm over Minho's shoulder and resting her head against his muscular arm, "Yeah, we're it. Couple. Duo. Boyfriend and boyfriend. Call it what you want. It's the same thing." The Med-jack at him adoringly and pinched his cheek.

"Oooh, you adorable shuckface you..." she cooed.

The look on the young boys' face were priceless. Anton's jaw hung open. Jeff's pen cluttered to the ground. It took all of Minho's willpower not to burst out laughing right then and there.

Alex shifted her gaze to her friends, giving them worried looks.

"You're okay with this though, aren't you? I know this comes as a shock. Believe me I was troubled too. Tried to fight it but..." she gave Minho the sappiest love-stricken look she could muster, "I can't. Oh shuck it, I can't!"

"That's the look of love right there," Minho said. "All sappy and ugly and shuck."

"You know you want it," Alex teased. "Yes you do. Yes you dooo..."

The two leaned towards each other for what looked like the beginning of a passionate kiss. Anton gasped in horror. Jeff's eyes watered yet he couldn't tear his gaze from the scandal in front of him.

When there were only a few inches between their lips, the two stopped.

"Move away shuckface," Alex murmured.

"No, you move away."

"No, you."

"Get a room slintheads!" Winston snapped as he passed behind them carrying his bowl of dinner. Alex burst out laughing and pushed Minho's face away.

She turned at the two Gladers in front of her. Both looked out of breath and rather disturbed.

"That answer your question?" she asked.

Anton continued to gape at her. "You two are crazy."

"I know," Minho sighed, nudging Alex with his right shoulder. "That's why I like hanging out with this shank. He's crazier by the way. I love you Alex."

She was floored by his last sentence and struggled to get her thoughts back in line for a quick, sarcastic comeback. She had none.

"No, I love _you_, man."

'Dammit, you did _not_ just say that! Damn you Minho!' a voice scolded her from inside her head. She squashed it down and mentally kicked it to the side.

"Geez!" Jeff finally managed to raise his hands over his eyes. "Stop it you two! It's shucking gross!"

Anton regained the use of his legs and wobbled out of the table. "I'm gonna go get dinner before I lose my appetite."

"Ha!" Alex piped.

"Sissy," Minho teased.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note: <strong>_I knew it. There was so much tension between those two they were bound to get noticed. When you start getting cozy with someone, it's only a matter of time before you get found out. True story. Haha! I find it funny how Anton here started off as the one determined to figure out what was up with the two Gladers but ended up chickening out halfway. Jeff's curiosity is adorable. Also, I keep referring to Minho's hair as "messy" don't I? Ki Hong doesn't have messy hair. It leans to one side on some action scenes or sticks out at different angles and shuck but other than that it remains pretty intact. Hmm. Peace!

On a lighter note, if there was one thing moving in to a new flat complete with DIY closets and coat racks taught me, it was that I have the chops to be a brilliant Builder if I was chucked inside the Glade...not praying for that to happen but just in case. *shrugs*

What do you think of the last chapter? Lemme know, good that?


	34. Commencing

_**Disclaimer:** _ I do not own The Maze Runner Series

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><p>They were still giggling over what happened during dinner hours after it was over. It was late at night. Alex and Minho sat by the Gardens to kill time while waiting for lights out. Both were careful to mind the two-foot gap between them while they continued their laid back chat.<p>

"I think we only succeeded in creeping them out," Minho said. He glanced sideways at her direction. "D'you think they still suspect about us?"

Gossip traveled fast within the four walls of the Maze. If Jeff or Anton still thought there was something going on between the two of them and decided to talk about it to others, chances are every Glader will figure out about him and Alex sooner or later. Minho couldn't decide which was worse, the entire Glade thinking he liked boys or the entire Glade finding out Alex was a girl. He knew how the latter scared the klunk out of her. While months ago he would never sacrifice his pride for anybody's sake, he now felt an illogical need to shield her from anything that might hurt her, even if it meant the entire Glade thinking he swings that way. He found it rather terrifying, how much he gave a damn about the chicken-legged girl with the bright green eyes.

Alex, on the other hand, just shrugged at him. "I don't care. Do you ?"

"Of course I do," he replied icily. Her reply to that was a huge smile, which puzzled him more.

"If you don't want them thinking you're gay-"

"Gay?!"

"-don't worry about it, shuckface. I think it's about time these shanks find out they have a girl in their midst anyways."

He did not see that one coming. "So you've finally decided to tell 'em? Took you long enough."

"To hell with being scared, Min." Her thoughts went back to her conversation with Gally. He had something worth being brave for. She had envied him for that once but now she thought perhaps she had found hers. She also thought her reason was rather cheesy and a bit shallow but to hell with that as well. "Plus, I'm sick of sneaking around. I..."

"What?" he asked nervously, afraid that she might tell him she wanted to end their makeout sessions. It had become his second-most favorite thing to do, just a hair's breadth below drawing the Maze.

"I _think _I give enough klunk about you to want to kiss you in front of everybody." She laughed out loud upon saying this, not believing she had said those words in front of him. She realized she enjoyed being reckless every once in a while. No wonder many of the boys did it. Minho, on the other hand, felt warmth run from the back of his throat down to his stomach. It made him feel giddy and he couldn't stop the grin from spreading like wildfire across his face. Screw the fact that it turned his eyes into happy slits and or that he might have sprouted another dimple from grinning so widely. He just didn't care.

"I meant what I said back there."

He was so caught up with that moment that he ended up blurting those three words before he could think any better. It had been a long time since his lack of tact had scared him klunkless. It sounded like a good idea at first. But when he realized the weight of what he uttered out loud and how he sounded so sincere saying it, he wanted to jump out of his own skin. He gave away too much. Lucky for him, Alex recovered nicely from it. She brushed it off like it was part of the joke, which was exactly how he wanted it to sound like. The downside of that was that he was left with the question of whether she meant it as well.

After a long pause she lowered her head and focused on a spot by the ground. "Well, that's a good thing then."

Minho decided to push his luck. "Why?"

"You _know_ why."

"Yeah well..." he paused, trying to stop himself from looking so darn happy it bordered on looking ridiculous. His smile had gotten so wide he wouldn't be surprised if it loosened a screw in his head somewhere. "Okay." He couldn't think of anything else to say. Alex seemed to have sensed this and teased him by repeating what he said.

"Okay."

"Anyway," he poked her ankle with the tip of his shoe. "Anytime you're ready, you tell me. I wanna be there when you tell 'em. Good that?"

"Good that."

Throughout those final minutes before lights out, they spoke in hushed voices, believing that only the bright full moon above them bore witness to their exchanged promises. Unknown to the two, miles underneath the ground in which the Maze stood in a place known as the Killzone Study Room, a group of scientists hung on to every word they said, feverishly taking down notes of their conversations as well as of the two teenagers' brainwave patterns on live feed.

Ever since Alex mentioned to the world her plans of revealing herself, the room had erupted in hurried whispers. She had overridden an implanted bias and in doing so, had put the entire experiment in danger.

Thomas, who was in the room with the rest of the team when it happened, furiously went through his copy of the female subject's files while everyone else around him panicked. As he read, a rueful grin spread across his face. "Makes sense."

"What are you talking about?" Aris asked beside him, looking over his shoulders to view the files as well.

"They got her initial assessment wrong," he replied, flicking through some of the raw data as he did. For an outsider, it would look as though Thomas was frowning over jagged lines.

"Her written results say she was deemed a weak candidate for the Trials early on. That's why they put her on the medical team instead of sending her to Group B. But it's not the case, really."

He pointed at the rhythm of Alex's brain waves which were taken when she was just eight years old. "See these? Now look at these." He quickly pressed on a few buttons on his desktop. A few seconds later, a holographic image of another batch of brainwave patterns from a different subject appeared in front of them. "See the similarities? Those are the killzone blueprints of a good candidate too. She's not weak, Aris. But she is difficult to read since her blueprints do not the follow the average patterns. It will be a bitch trying to get data out of her. Kind of like Minho's case."

"Well I'll be damned," Aris replied. "You're a difficult read as well, aren't you Tom?" The smaller boy noted that to date only the three of them were known as capable of overriding biases, with Minho doing it more times than the other two. Thomas only managed to do it on "test drives" when scientists test it on his killzone to see if their implants were strong enough for the average candidate.

"Hey, tell me if I'm jumping into conclusions. Do you think there's a connection between ambiguous results and abilities to override biases?" Aris' logic-driven mind was working overtime to quantify the probabilities.

"There's only me, Minho and her to work with so you probably are." Thomas shrugged. "I'll tell you who jumped into conclusions though. Whoever tested 47 a couple of years ago. It's possible that he or she wasted a good set of killzone patterns by not sending her to the Trials as one of the preliminary candidates."

Aris snorted. "I'd like to think Alexandria got lucky. Don't you?" The two young scientists exchanged knowing looks. After seeing the horror their childhood acquaintances went through, they thought perhaps being with the rejects proved to be a good bargain after all.

"She was. Now, not so much."

_True enough,_ Aris thought, nodding in agreement. He turned to Janson, who leaned over the control panel with a severe frown on his face.

"Janson." Thomas called. "You said it yourself, we can't let them know about her."

One of the scientists, a tall woman whose hair was tied up in a bun spoke up. "I'll get her mind-control panel ready, then." She stood up to get the device from the next room when Janson's voice stopped her.

"Not so fast. There's still time. A7 is ready. I know it. So far he had given us far better results than we first anticipated." Janson smiled at the woman, who sat back down awkwardly.

"Rather than run around like a bunch of headless chickens, why don't we work double time to get our blueprints instead? By now, we already know for sure that A7 can and will deliver. That way, those two can finally get a rest of sorts as well. What do you think?"

A murmur of agreement ran throughout the crowd except for the four teenagers in the room. Aris shook his head miserably. Across the table, behind the transparent monitors, he caught sight of his best friend Rachel ducking behind a curtain of thick hair. Teresa's blue eyes determinedly stared straight ahead. On his left, Thomas' gaze was glued on the monitor, which showed Minho and Alex bantering.

"I'll record his blueprints for you," Thomas said. His voice was dull and lifeless. His eyes, however, looked more alive than the rest of him as it bored holes into the screen. Aris knew that look. He wore it when he was trying to commit an image into his memory. He turned to see what it was that he was trying to sear in his mind. The monitor showed Alex and Minho lying on a grassy field, both belly-laughing so hard tears were falling down the former's cheeks. It had been the happiest they had looked as far as he remembered.

"Try to get some rest, Thomas," the older man said, stretching his neck sideways as he did. "Tomorrow's going to be a handful."

* * *

><p>Thomas stared up at the plain white ceiling of his bedroom, willing his muscles to remain still. He had been awake for a while. But he dreaded the thought of getting out of bed to start the day, least of all that particular day.<p>

For the hundredth time he wished he could take it all back. He had been one of the major contributors of the Trials, having designed the Maze and having handpicked most of the variables the subjects were to be exposed to. It seemed worth it in the beginning. For something as beneficent as a cure for the Flare, any means seemed justifiable to reach the end. Thomas firmly believed in this train of thought until the day he witnessed the Glade's first death. The boy's name was George. He died trying to escape a Beetle Blade of all things. Soon, some of them turned against their fellow Gladers. Alby had no choice but to get rid of them one by one. Every heart monitor that flat-lined ate at his conscience. Their continuous singular beep echoed in his ears even as he tried to sleep. The more subjects died the louder they became. He never told Teresa this but he yearned for the day when he could get the Swipe, to have all of it, the guilt, the helplessness, removed out of his head in an instant. It was a cowardly thing to do but for Thomas, it was the only thing that provided him with an escape from his demons.

Minho's unresponsiveness had been the hardest blow by far. No matter what variables they threw at his way, the cheeky kid simply refused to crack. If anything, stress seemed to further thicken the walls that guarded his most coveted psyche. His sometimes radical reactions to the circumstances deliberately thrown at him had left even Thomas and Janson unsure whether his tough resolve was a good thing or a bad thing. One thing was for sure, it made the fifteen-year old boy question his credibility as a scientist and it forever burdened him with the guilt of erasing an innocent girl's entire world in order to salvage the good that was left in the aftermath. Subject A47 was an adamant pawn in an ego-filled power play. They had exploited her naivete and trust in Thomas to do the one job they found themselves incapable of doing.

He agreed to WICKED's terms. The least he could do was give Alex's bravery the respect it deserved and see it through the end, making sure he helped her finish her mission as a success.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ A few days ago a friend of mine urged me to see TMR with her online. I agreed of course, to refresh my mojo with all that Glade culture. Now I realize I'm fancying Newt quite a lot. And Thomas. And Ben. EEEEK! And Ki Hong Lee looked quite handsome in the movie as well. I dunno if it's just me but it's more pronounced the second time around. Haha! Okay.


	35. Peekaboo

_**Disclaimer:**_ I don't own TMR. After 35 chapters I'm hoping we got that one thing clear.

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><p>"For shuck's sake Jeff, that's the third batch you've botched!"<p>

Alex impatiently pushed the Bagger away and took the frothy solution off the burner. She made a face before dumping the odious liquid in the trash can.

"Go easy with the flames man. You should know that by now," she said.

Jeff shrugged his shoulder helplessly. "I thought that was going easy. Look Alex, I'm trying here."

"Try harder!" she snapped, causing him to raise his hands in surrender.

"Give me a break, Minho Junior! You've been spending _way _too much time with that hothead."

The comment was a wake up call for Alex and she suddenly felt embarrassed for being so pushy. "Sorry. My bad," she sighed. She went over towards the window sill and hopped on it, allowing her legs to dangle inches away from the floor.

For months now she and Clint had been teaching Jeff the ropes of being a Med-jack. The Bagger insisted he wanted to learn and the duo was more than happy to help him. After all, the Glade's population grew in size every month. They needed all the hands they could get.

Clint noticed early on that the slight boy was a gifted first-aider. He seldom panicked and was quick at making decisions. He applied bandages far more effectively than Alex and he had gotten so good at it that Anton, his favorite guinea pig, no longer minded being practiced on. The Bricknick strutted around the Glade wearing those things like they were a fashion statement.

Jeff's biggest weakness, however, was brewing. He couldn't brew a single concoction for the sniffles if his life depended on it. Clint had given up on teaching him and handed the responsibility to Alex who was also near the end of her rope. It was hours after lights out. They'd been at it forever and she was tired.

Jeff, on the other hand, was slowly getting irritated. This after hours session he managed to book from both Leo and Alby was hard-earned. He didn't want to spend it being snapped and scolded at. He wanted action, not a cooking show.

"Why can't I just stick to treating broken bones and shuck? You guys do this since you're obviously good at it."

Alex rolled her eyes at him. "That's like telling Winston that you'll raise the cattle but skip the part where you butcher them. It doesn't work that way. If you want to be in the trade you have to learn them all, slinthead."

"Shuckface," he shot back.

"Shut up." She hopped away from the sill and began to prepare the equipment and ingredients for the fourth time.

"Let's try again."

"I'll just screw it up again, Alex," Jeff warned but went over to her side anyway.

"Yeah well, do all the screwing up you need until you get the hang of it then. You don't have much of a choice, do you?" She handed him the wooden ladle, which he took wordlessly.

"At least try shank," she said. She plopped on the nearest bed and closed her eyes for a quick shut-eye. "Clint can't look after all these kids on his own. He's going to need your help eventually."

Jeff paused from pounding on a ginger root and turned to look at her.

"He ain't on his own, stupid. You're not going anywhere soon," he replied.

She chuckled. "Yeah, yeah."

* * *

><p>The next day Anton woke up early to get a headstart with the repairs. After stretching for a few seconds, he got up to wash his face and trudged on his way to the tool shed. Somebody was already there. What surprised him was that somebody was Minho. The Runner looked around to make sure nobody was following him, not noticing the curly-haired boy who stood behind the bushes. As soon as he went inside, Anton slipped away from his hiding place and silently made his way into the old shack. He remembered the last time he found him in the place claiming he was cooling down.<p>

'Was he lying?' he thought. The gates of the Maze weren't even open yet. He had no idea what business Minho had inside that awful-looking place at this hour. It was for this reason that Anton's curiosity got the best of him.

He heard two voices when he sneaked inside. They were muffled at first. He crept closer to hear better, crouching low behind piles of boxed tools.

"I'll tell them later, Min. Tonight. Supplies are due today so I'm hoping that will put them in a good mood."

Anton perked up at the slightly feminine and familiar voice. He didn't have to see her to know it was Alex.

"Well, they already think you're a pansy anyway so that will make it an easier transition," Minho replied.

"You really think that?"

"No."

Anton peeked through a crack in the box and saw Alex playfully smack Minho in the arm. Then she shyly tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. For some reason he couldn't pinpoint, the small gesture roused suspicion within him. Something wasn't right. He could feel it.

"For Chrissakes Alexandria, you're a girl-"

'What?!' Anton was floored.

"-of course you'll freak them out. But," Min pinched her nose teasingly, "Don't forget about what I said before. Nobody's laying a finger on you without going through me first. Good that?"

Alex bit her lip and looked down. "Okay."

The young Bricknick wanted to turn away. He had a feeling this wasn't something that other people were meant to see. Yet he was too shocked to move. Everything he had just heard took a long time to sink in and when they did, he was dumbfounded.

Alex. No, Alex_andria _was a girl. He had spent most of his waking hours with her and he never knew she had been hiding something this big the entire time. And Minho knew.

"I love you."

"And I love you."

Alex had just pulled away from the kiss and had rested her head on Minho's chest when she spotted Anton stepping out from behind the boxes. His face was scrunched up and looked upset. She was too shocked to do anything except to push Minho away.

"Anton!" she exclaimed.

"Shuck!" Minho hissed, turning slowly to look at the Bricknick. He kept his face as straight as possible, not wanting to give away the sudden jolt of panic that he felt.

"What is this?" Anton mumbled. His eyes locked on Alex. "You're a girl?" When the Med-jack didn't say anything, his head whipped back at Minho. "How long have you known?"

"Long enough," he deadpanned. On instinct, he stepped in front of Alex protectively.

"Anton please let me explain," Alex started.

"Sure. Care to explain why you've been lying to us this whole time? Shuck!" He scratched his head irritatingly. "D'you have any idea how messed up this is? How can you tell him but not me and Jeff?" He was shouting now. "We're you're friends dammit! Or was that part of your big fat lie as well."

The air was filled with a loud crack followed by the grating sound of concrete dragging itself against the ground. The gates were opening.

Without another word, Anton turned around and dashed out of the shed.

"We have to follow him." Alex was already running as she said this. Minho had no choice but to follow suit.

They chased after the Bricknick as he jogged towards the south gate. Newt and Frankie were stretching nearby in preparation for their day-long run.

"Stop it shuckface! You're heading into the shucking Maze!" Minho shouted from behind.

"Hey hey! What's going on?" Newt asked, stopping the dark-haired Runner in his tracks. Alex continued to chase after Anton.

"Hear me out Anton! Stop!"

Anton abruptly turned to look at her making her skid to a halt. His face had a confused look in it, as thought he had no idea how he got there.

"What is it?" she asked cautiously.

His brown eyes locked on hers. "For a minute there I couldn't control my legs. And did you just say I deviated? From what?"

"Huh?"

Out of nowhere, a metallic tentacle coiled itself on Anton's ankle. The curly-haired boy watched in horror as it continued to wrap itself all the way up to his calf.

Alex knew what it was before Frankie shouted it's name.

"GRIEVER!"

A second later, Anton's head snapped back as the tentacle knocked him off of his feet. Alex managed to catch his hand before it ripped away from her grasp. He let out a blood-curdling scream as it began to drag him inside the maze.

"ANTON!" she shrieked, running after him.

"Jesus!" Newt exclaimed. Minho grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up his feet.

"Let's go! Let's go!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ *shrugs* Yeah. So um apparently I'm a very shy person when it comes to writing. I'm too shy to write in front of anybody except my parents, siblings, and my boyfriend (all of whom are in Davao). So when my housemates look over my shoulder and ask me "What is that?" every time I do my drafts I end up shoving my notebook under my duvet and hide it there for the rest of the day. Same principle applies when I start typing my final work up in this site. Haha! Bear with me if my updates are taking longer than usual.

**SeliiiaXD** I've read your story! Will review on it soon. =) I gotta think it through first since I plan on doing the chapter-worthy kind. Haha!

**TheAliensDidIt** welcome back! Wondered what happened to you.

For everyone for reviewed, followed and favorited The Variable...thank you! I LOVE YOU! Hope to hear more from you. =) Cheers!

My me-time is nearly over now so gotta go!


	36. Fight or Flight

_**Disclaimer:**_ I disclaim.

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><p>"Alex, help me! Help me!"<p>

Tears sprang out of her eyes even as she was running after Anton. The raw fear of seeing one of her best friends in grave danger choked her like a vice grip, making it hard to breathe.

The Bricknick was already halfway inside the Maze when she managed to grab hold of his arms. Anton hung on to her for dear life.

"Don't let me go! Don't let me gooo!" He cried hysterically.

"Alex let him go!" she heard one Glader say.

"Shank won't hold!" said another.

They were right. Anton outweighed her by many pounds. If pull became yank and she held on, she would be joining him in the Maze.

_But this is Anton!_ she thought. She couldn't afford to be logical, not after everything she had seen in the that hellhole. _If I could just get someone to help me..._

"Anton!" Minho called out as he and Newt sprinted towards the south gate. He grabbed for the back of Alex's shirt in an attempt to anchor her in case the worst case scenario in his head happened. And it did. Before his fingers could get a good grip at the fabric, Anton was pulled sharply inside the entrance taking the Med-jack with him.

"Shuck!" Newt cursed. "Come on!"

Alex was too stunned to scream as she and Anton were dragged against the rough stone floor. The boy clawed at her arms while the coil around his leg pulled harder and harder. She gritted her teeth through the pain and refused to let go of his arms.

A few turns inside the labyrinth, the monster let out an ear-splitting roar. The metal coil lifted the screaming boy off the ground, away from the other Glader's grasp. The sickening snap of a leg breaking shocked her senseless and she could only watch in horror as Anton hung in mid-air before being yanked over one of the stone walls and out of her sight.

"Stand up!"

Two pair of hands pulled her upwards until she managed to stand on shaky feet.

"You two get back in the Glade," Minho said. "I'm going after him."

"Wait-" Before Newt could say another word, the Keeper had already sprinted towards the direction where Anton was taken to.

Alex and Newt exchanged terrified looks.

"We have to go." The blonde Runner grabbed her by the arm and led her back to the entrance. She glanced back at the sharp turn where Minho disappeared into and suddenly felt sick to her stomach.

"What about those two?" she asked worriedly.

"I'll catch go after them but you need to go back-"

Alex pulled him to a stop as the walls in front of them flipped laterally with a loud boom, blocking the way out.

"Shuck me bloody," Newt murmured. "It can't be."

"What?"

"The Maze is changing first thing in the morning!"

He signaled at her to stay close as they jogged deeper into the Maze, desperate to find another way out.

At a distance, another pain-filled scream echoed throughout the walls. Alex couldn't tell if it was Anton or Minho. Thinking about it brought acid up her throat.

"Don't stop running," Newt said, his voice shaking as he did. He tried and failed to ignore the haunting sound.

They navigated through many twists and turns in the southern Maze, their feet pounding loudly while the ground beneath them exploded into potholes.

"Left or right?" Alex asked. She nodded at the forked road ahead of them. Newt turned right into the wider corridor, his seasoned Runner's instincts anticipating the scary part where the walls would close in on them.

A loud shudder ran throughout the ground. Alex lost her balance and toppled down chest first, knocking the air out of her. Newt was already yards away before he realized that the Med-jack was no longer tailing him.

"Get up shank!" he exclaimed, running back for her. Before he could reach her, two loud cracking sounds filled the air like pistols going off. A few feet from where Alex was struggling to get up, right between the two of them, a section of the ground broke off and began to rise up revealing a stone wall.

"No, no, no!" Alex pushed herself up. By the time she reached the emerging wall, it was past her chest and was still rising up at a steady speed. She grabbed Newt's outstretched hand.

"Alex!" Newt screamed, anguish filling his eyes. As the slab of stone continued its ascent, their grip on each other slipped.

"Newt, don't leave me!" she cried, terrified. She had managed to keep her fears at bay with the boy by her side. Now with this wall between them and coupled with the fact that they were stuck in a shifting maze, those fears had come back to hit her at full blast.

"I'm going to find a way. Hang on!"

Newt pressed against the wall as hard as he could. He paused as it began to vibrate against his cheek. The rumble grew in intensity with each passing second. He peeked through a narrow crack at its edge. The air behind Alex began to fill with dust. The Maze was shifting on that side. He could easily bet that soon it will shift on his side as well.

He needed to get out of there.

"The corridor is shifting," he spoke through the crack. "It's coming this way."

Alex turned to look behind her. True enough, her side of the corridor looked like it was falling apart.

"What should I do?" she asked.

Newt was at a loss. Alex was trapped. If she charged through her only way out while the walls were shifting, chances are she won't make it. The only person crazy enough to give that one a try and survive was currently running after a Griever. If she stayed there...

"I don't know," he said honestly. Bile rose up his throat at the thought of what he was about to say.

"But Alex, I can't stay here. I'm sorry."

"What are you-Newt!" she shrieked as realization dawned on her. "Don't leave me! Goddamit Newt!"

Newt banged his fist against the wall and turned away, away from imminent danger and away from Alex. It wasn't long before the loud rumbling around him drowned the Med-jack's pleas for help.

* * *

><p>Jeff stood anxiously by the south gate. His nerves felt like live wire as he waited for some kind of news from inside the Maze. One of the Baggers told him what happened. His two best friends were in there. Apparently, one of them was attacked by a Griever.<p>

"This can't be happening," he muttered under his breath. For the hundredth time, he rubbed his palm against his face.

He thought the incident with Alex had been enough of a nightmare. Now with Anton in there as well he felt as though he was going to get jacked.

"It's Newt!" someone shouted.

Jeff's head snapped up. The blonde Runner was making his way to them. The dark-skinned boy wrestled through the crowd that was forming around Newt. Everyone was asking everything at once and he struggled to answer all of them.

"What took Anton?"

"A Griever did."

"In the early shucking morning?!"

"..."

"Where's Minho?"

"In there. He chased after Anton."

"What about the Med-jack?"

At this, Newt locked eyes with Jeff who was bouncing on his feet as he waited for his reply.

"Newt," Jeff said. "Come on man, where's Alex?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Note:<strong>_ (hides under duvet) I know. I know. You think I'm a horrible HORRIBLE person right now. Believe me, I felt terrible while writing this...mainly because I'm not used to torturing Newt and Anton. Newt especially. *sniff!sniff!* But really now, he had a bias on. Plus if you've read the books (part about Munies and Cranks ifyaknowwhatimean) you'll figure out that he didn't really stand a chance...or at least I think he didn't.

Anyhoo. Thank your for reviewing, following, and favoriting The Variable. This has been an amazing journey with the lot of you! I had no idea it would be this well-received and I had no idea it would reach THIS FAR. 36 chapters and running baby! Cheers!


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